Day 4: Port Townsend - Bremerton - Seattle, 65 miles

After our much needed day of rest yesterday, we left Port Townsend before 9am and were practically flying along for the first couple of hours. The hills were gentle for our rejuvenated legs and the wind seemed negligible... We cycled through Port Hadlock, Port Ludlow and onto Paradise Bay where a young guy on a Trek Madone pulled out in front of us. To our amusement/glee, unloaded he managed to slow us down from around 25-30 km/h to a mere 20 m.p.h. If only there had been wood to touch when we thought to ourselves how we had finally cracked this cycling malarkey!

With 6 miles to go until we hit a bridge and a state park a few miles further, we decided to head on and stop for lunch later. As we approached Hood Canal, we were anxious (although in hindsight I would say blarsey - sorry i can't work out how to spell this) about the bridge that would take us across. To quote our lonely planets guide:

'Between the parks, Floating Hood Canal Bridge has a narrow, debris-strewn shoulder, busy traffic and a slippery metal rail angled across cyclists' path near its center. Signs advise walking this section but there is nowhere safer to walk. It would be more sensible to continue riding, carefully cross the rail, and get off the bridge as soon as possible'

I am not sure how to put into words quite how true that paragraph was. Reading it the evening before I laughed to myself. Reading it again this evening I wanted to cry ;-) Onto the bridge we went and I almost got blown sideways onto the grating (which apparently is lethal in rain). We were offered a small respite as the bridge was raised to allow a boat through. I am not sure gale force winds in the middle of an open straight really do constitute respite, however. As you can imagine waiting 10 minutes again for the bridge to be lowered meant there was now a huge line of traffic (read: noisy huge vehicles - passenger and cargo) sitting behind us. Finally we moved on, cars flying past. I felt like Mary Poppins waiting to happen - one extra large gust of wind and I was going to be carried away. Following the lonely planets suggestion we cycled on until we entered a single lane strictly telling cyclists to get off and walk.... The shoulder was not much wider than my bike! If I had the energy to cry maybe I would have done but I was concentrating so hard on getting off the bridge that there was no time for such luxuries... Once through the walking section Tim wanted to wait til there was a gap - by gap I mean more than 2 seconds in which to get your leg over the bike and both feet securely clipped in. It took a while, and then I sprinted for the line.

A few miles along S.R. 3 we pulled off the road and into Kitsap Memorial State Park - shells of our former selves. With a big woolly jumper on I huddled in the wind and tucked into a sandwich. At least the worst was over and done with...

Of course that wasn't possible. Once back on route to Bremerton the wind reared it's ugly head again right into our faces for the next 20 miles! Passing another U.S. Naval Reservation I felt like all my pedalling was in vain - I say that even enjoying the prerogative of being a woman tucked in nicely behind Tim ;-) I may as well have been pedalling backwards. An hour later we reached the edge of Bremerton where we went off route in search of the Seattle ferry. If we can't follow a route with a map I am not sure how we thought we would follow a route without one ;-)

We made it onto highway 303 after asking a couple of local kids for directions. As we pedalled further into Bremerton the wind was howling and joy of joys there was yet another bridge. As we entered I saw the sidewalk and bailed onto it. Tim the fearless warrior however battled on. Needless to say when he got to the other side he had no idea where I was and panicked (bless) started walking back over the bridge. As we cycled on, the hard shoulder disappeared and we had no idea where the ferry was. With dwindling spirits suddenly a sign came into view and we knew we were on the right tracks. After a lot of faffing we made it onto the ferry and settled down for the hour journey.

The story of today doesn't end here. Last night we had booked a room for three nights in a bed and breakfast. It taken us about 30 minutes to work out how to use our phone card on the hotel phone - yet again any resemblance of intelligence seemed to have escaped us. Eventually I put Tim through to the equivalent of 118 118, and a rather bemused lady on the end told us which number to use.... Having booked the room the guys told Tim it was on 18th street - cool - apart from when we cycled to 18th street (having taken a wrong turn up what felt like a vertical hill) we realised that I had written an address on Belmont Avenue...

So here started yet another saga. We went to the number I had written down, but on 18th street - there was no guest house here. I sent Tim into an old peoples home to beg them for the use of their phone. We couldn't get through though so we cycled to Belmont Avenue - the house was derelict! We cycled to Broadway in the hunt for coffee, cakes and yet more phones. I sat outside Peet's coffee, watching the local methadone users looking for somewhere to shoot up, as Tim went in to ask for help. The girls took him under their wings, hunting the Internet for our guest house and then ringing numerous places. Eventually they found an address for somewhere that matched the name we had. They even rang the place for us (on a different number to what we had) and checked this was the right place.

Two hours after we had landed in Seattle we finally found our bed for the next three nights, and a lovely place it was too.

Mentally and physically shattered we wolfed down pasta and wine and crawled into bed.

Bagpipe Serenade

After almost a week in the states I was beginning to get upset that I hadn't yet been asked for I.D. in a bar - I have always been told that they ask you even if you look 40 so I was nearing panic stations thinking I must actually look 50 (Although of course all you 50 yr olds out there are beautiful). It was with great delight that I was finally asked for I.D. in the maddest bar yet - old guys sat at the bar, stuffed animals on the walls and a little hut to go and get pizza from. The lady actually asked Tim if his girlfriend, er wife, we acquaintance had any I.D. which made it that much funnier.

Apres beer and having devoured yet more pasta and of course cake, we left the restaurant to hear the dulcet tones of what Tim was convinced was a bagpipe band complete with drummers. Round corners we ran and down great flights of stairs onto a viewing pontoon that looked out over Admiralty Inlet to be met by one lone bagpiper - his duff notes obviously mimicking that of a drum... In a crazy, late night, beer fuelled kind of way it was peaceful - Lazy Port Townsend behind us and the racket of a guy obviously chucked out of the house by a much aggrieved partner, to practice his bagpipe. There was even a lady Irish dancing with her dog...

Port Townsend

Our morning started with breakfast delivered to our door in a picnic hamper. After Watching the news and drinking endless cups of coffee we happened upon a very lazy plan for the day - residing in Port Townsend to rediscover both our sanity, and our body parts. It was time to pause the transience of the trip.

Port Townsend is a Victorian seaport and arts community. It is the oldest town on the Olympic Peninsula and competed with Seattle for supremacy in Puget Sound trade until the 1890 cancellation of a rail link with Portland stopped this. Because of it's history there are large clapboard houses on every street - some very grand and frequently having housed famous dignitaries.

All day we have ambled around, from historic house to Presbyterian church and coffee shop. The following photos are a random but accurate stream of our day.

Multicoloured fire hydrant:

Cool house nestling at the top of a big hill:

A very big tree and a very hairy paddy:

Not sure what to say, the white markings on the side were bones, and the red on the front fake blood - I didn't want to get too close:
Theatre house:

This one is for Guy and Claire - a Volvo Amazon:

The deers are obviously very tame here, as this was the third one we came across:

A mailbox:

A Pooch Cafe - I guess it does what it says on the tin:

Having rested for today we will head off to Bremerton tomorrow, catching a ferry over to Seattle where we will have another couple days of rest.

Day 3: Anacortes - Port Townsend, 40 miles

After catching up on the blog, our day started with a cruise along the coast, past the San Juan ferry and onto the first climb of many. Day four of cycling and although none of the hills were of immense proportions the muscles were putting up resistance. Winding through yet more woodland we came up to Deception Pass State Park. As we got onto SR 20 the hard shoulder was closed, but with only one workman for a few hundred metres, we decided to feign ignorance and pedalled straight along it. The road was far too narrow and the scenery too beautiful to spend the cycle worrying about trucks flying past us.

The crazy thing here is that any vehicle coming up behind you sounds like a huge Juggernaut. I have lost track of the number of times it has in fact been a pick up.

At the end of the road works we had to lift our bikes (panniers and all) over the concrete barriers and onto the Deception Pass Bridge where we were treated to a sidewalk only just wide enough to take our loaded bikes, and which protected us from the traffic by a thin wire. The views were, however, worth the trek.

Once off SR 20 we came back into countryside with undulating hills. As soon as we had lost the noise of the traffic we were met by the booming noise of jets as we circled a U.S. Naval Reservation on Whidbey Island. They were flying so low that it felt like they were going to land on our heads - I even had a perverse urge to wave.

The route swept down along the Strait of Juan De Fuca where we enjoyed a few minutes of flat terrain, rudely interrupted by a steep shock of a hill up to Coupeville via Penn Cove. Penn Cove was surrounded by clapboard houses with creeks in their front yards, and the hills were so short and gentle that we soon started to pick up our speed. Through Coupeville we barely stopped to think - the roads were easy and we knew there were only 5 miles to Fort Casey and the Port Townsend ferry. With absolutely no prior planning we made it to the ferry with 2 minutes to spare. On we got and 30 minutes later we were off again in hunt of a visitors centre.

In the background of the photo below you can just make out the snow capped Olympic Mountain

The downtown Bishop Victorian Hotel was recommended. After getting lost (by following a mistaken address this time) we stumbled into the hotel where we were met by a lovely lady who got us set up with a room and a place to store our bikes.

Once settled we went up the road to yet another nice restaurant called Fountains Cafe where we ate locally caught fish.

Port Townsend itself features a streetscape of restored 19th-century buildings along a waterfront with views of Cascade and Olympic Mountains. For the first time since reaching America we have seen more than just ourselves walking along the street, although the men on their mowers are still prevalent.

Day 2a: San Juan Island, 35 miles

As you can see our mileage has greatly decreased since day one. In an attempt to not fly through every area we came to, we took a ferry over to San Juan Island. The sun was shining and the one hour ferry journey past various other islands including Lopez and Orcas was a welcomed moment of relaxation. The islands were beautiful, and we were treated to a couple of dolphin jumping along side us. As ever a couple of people got chatting to us about our trip and a fellow cyclist checked we knew where we were going... Of course we knew, we had the lonely planets guide for this side trip. Of course this meant yet again we got lost.

The trip took us out of Friday Harbor, along undulating hills to Roche Harbor (and old lime kiln area). We stopped for a cup of tea - an Irishman can go no longer than a couple of hours before replenishing - giving Tim time to look at boats and their surroundings..

Just as we were leaving a guy approached us asking what we were up to and how we were finding our bikes. It transpired he had taken two and a half years to cycle from Alaska to Argentina, broken by three months of kayaking in the middle! It is funny when you realise how many people are out there doing crazy challenges. He had largely done the trip alone but rightfully said 'the bike is an ambassador' - everyone waves at you as you go by and people cycle across intersections to see what we are up to.

Rest over we cycled back up on to the circuitous route we were following and made it up some tough enough hills. One was rewarded by sea views, had we of course not got lost and ventured into the middle of the island. Being lost on a bike in America is difficult one as you see so few people outside of a car. In a moment of indecision we took a right turn in the direction we thought we wanted to go and came across a lady on a bike who gave us concise directions down to the last hill incline and length. For the next few hours we went up and down, past houses with lakes in their front yards, alpacas and sea scapes.

Once back in Friday Harbor we settled down in a cafe where a guy was playing his guitar. A couple of coffees down we retraced our steps onto the ferry and back into Anacortes where we had dinner in a great restaurant called Adrift.

Day 2: Bellingham - Anacortes, 40+ miles

At about 8am we woke from a deep slumber and tried to raise ourselves out of bed... I could barely move my back was so sore. I tried to pick my shoes up off the floor but the floor was so far away that I improvised by flicking them up onto the bed with a kick of my leg! Both of us felt like we had been on a saddle for too long the day before and the thought of getting on a bike again so soon after was a little daunting.

That said we got out of bed and limped 10 minutes down the road - carcasses of our former selves - to the Old Town Cafe. In a fit of self indulgence i ordered hotcakes. When they arrived they were the size of big plates - all good for cycling I guess.

On the way down we had been cornered by another local outside the bike shop, telling us about his amazing wireless speedo! He was very impressed by his bike from Hawaii and wanted to tell us all about it. We were beginning to think Bellingham locals were a little on the eccentric side. On the way out of Bellingham we stopped to pick up a bar bag and once again we got stopped by the guy who once again wanted to tell us about his speedo and the great expense of his bike. We kept trying to walk off but to no avail until a girl working in the shop came out and kindly interrupted him. I guess we should have been a little kinder to him...

Once again we got lost cycling out of Bellingham - you would think that with two degrees and a certain level of common sense between the two of us, that we could follow directions on the painfully simple gridiron road system of America. Not true. Luckily we only had to reclimb one steep descent. The next few hours took us up winding hills, through woodland, past Larabee State Park and alongside Samish bay until we reached Bow, after 15 minutes of cycling along the flat into yet more head wind. We stopped for lunch in Rhododendron cafe where we had chicken curry soup (curry, rice and all, with stock added!) and blueberry cobbler.

Again we started to pedal, through Edison, over Samish River and along Padilla Bay Shore Trail just after Bay View. This was pretty flat terrain but it has to be said that the hill climbing was generally more enjoyable! It gave a good excuse to part company with the saddle and was generally along secluded roads protected from the howling wind. With a few stints along State Road 20 we came to Fidalgo Bay and the outskirts of Anacortes. We took a gamble and followed a path which crossed the bay, taking us straight into town centre. Stopping along the bridge, one side was beautiful woodland:

The other side was a lovely industrial plant:

Bizarrely it was still peaceful.

Once into Anacortes we cycled out to a road which our lonely planets guide told us had a lovely Victorian B&B. Blatantly it is wise to check when reading from a book published in 2002 that it's contents are still current and up to date. Needless to say we had to pedal back into town and checked ourselves into Cap Sante motel, complete with a marina behind it. I think Tim had planned this wisely, although I am not sure what the appeal was of the leash free dog pen across the road...

Anacortes itself again felt like Ghost Town. We walked out along the main road and there was no-one to be seen. I was waiting for the spaghetti western music to play as tumble weed rolled down the street. It appears there is a strong quilting community here as every other shop was stacked high with them, or books about them, or material to make them. As we sat in a great Italian we looked out onto the street. All you could see were big 4x4s, people getting out of them and stepping into restaurants. During the day we have only seen a few people out on the streets and very randomly they all seem to have been mowing the lawn.

Where is everyone?

Vancouver in the Snow

As promised here are the photos I was hoping to upload earlier today:

Tim in the snow, looking very big as my bike is so small

Oh look, the same photo from a different angle and an altered subject

Cool little coffee hut once we made it to bellingham

Day 1: Vancouver - Bellingham (75 miles)

Over night Vancouver was treated to a dusting of snow. Undeterred, and well fed with toast and cereal we leapt on our bikes and started the long day ahead of us. As we cycled through downtown Vancouver we hit suburbia and our first signs of snow. Luckily there was no snow on the roads but it was pretty cool cycling along with snow on the verges and trees. You would have thought we would be cold with the weather only a touch over freezing but maybe the excitement and extra load of our panniers was keeping us warm. The add image button isn't working on the blog at the moment so I will post photos next time I am on a computer.

We sauntered along the Fraser river, with industrial land to our right. We started to feel strong winds but it was still early enough in our day to not feel perturbed by it. Eventually we hit Alex Fraser Bridge and our first failure in navigation. We were directed to use the East sidewalk but this was closed and for some reason (unknown to both of us) we couldn't work out how to get to the other side. Eventually we found our way onto a flimsy cantilevered sheet metal walkway. The bear bell in my bag kept clanging and spooking me into thinking we were in imminent danger. As Tim got to the other side, the engineer in him was equally panicked by what we had just cycled over.

As we continued to cycle, the contrast of our surroundings was amazing - snow capped mountains surrounding industrial hinterland. As we were reaching 2pm we decided it was time to grab some lunch, but all we could see was fast food land. In luck we found a small supermarket where we stocked up on sandwiches and bananas. After cycling yet further to find some countryside to sit in we plumped for a bus stop bench! As ever lots of people stopped to talk to us. I was tempted to throw our bikes on the bus - the buses here have bike racks on the front - but of course that would be cheating.....

Some time before 3pm we pedalled into Blaine and into U.S. customs on the Canadian/American border, having hit a massive hill with an ever vanishing crest. This was the usual fair of tight lipped aggressive border control asking us daft questions like do we have any guns in your panniers. The best interaction was when the guy asked us why we had so much luggage and what it was. Tim replied 'personal effects'. The guy retorted 'I know they are personal effects mate. You are at the border - I want to know what.' That told us.

Visa waiver sorted, the guy lightened up slightly and asked us which way we were going to cycle. We showed him the map, and he kindly told us that cyclists are allowed to cycle along the interstate out of border control until you reach the Pacific Highway. The hard shoulders are huge here and as such you get a lane big enough for cars to cycle along, but we thought it still sounded a little scary and ignored his advice........ This was a big mistake.

An hour or so later we were on the first side of a triangle (the interstate being the hypotenuse). My back was killing, our bums were agony and the wind was blowing a gale right into our faces. I could barely move for the weight of my bike (touring bikes are not light) and panniers, and Tim was equally not having much fun. It felt like hours to the end of the road and then we had to do the other side of the triangle, where the wind appeared to kindly turn once again into our faces!

At the first sight of humanity (read SUV's and trucks) I dropped my bike onto the forecourt of a petrol station and devoured a king size mars bars - I knew there was a reason for such glutinous chocolate bar sizes!

Recharged we gladly cycled into Bellingham. Last night we had booked a motel on Samish way, only to find when we got into Bellingham we had no idea where this was. As we pulled off the road to formulate a plan a lady with a bike trailer covered in flowers (!) approached us. She was either a little crazy or we didn't yet understand the local mentality - that said she gave us brilliant directions. I have to admit to following them gingerly, wandering if they were true or not but sure enough we got to our destination.

Initially we had tried booking a room in a different motel, but couldn't get through on the number we had. I luckily went onto the Internet and found some horrendous reviews for the place, most memorable of which was: 'It's a whore house, drug den'!! I thankfully checked the reviews of the next place which were really good so we knew when we got to Bellingham we were hopefully going to be in some comfortable beds and that they were.

As we had cycled through Bellingham the place looked like a ghost town so we dropped our bikes and still in our cycle wear we walked John Wayne style (!) down to a pizza place we had seen.

Brilliant - We had survived day one and the pizzas were amazing!

Vancouver Highlights

The last few days have been tiring, and I have only just found the time to muster some energy to get back up to speed on the blog, so here we go.


Our final day in Vancouver was brilliant. We headed to La Bicicletta to pick up my bike, and at the same time I gently pestered Tim into trying the same bike. Tom, the manager was a brilliant guy with a world of patience, and spent hours with us setting our bikes up to fit like gloves. Tim popped out for another test cycle and we had lift off - Tim had decided he would also go with the Marinoni. Part of the decision wasn't just the bike but also the amazing service we got. The younger guys kept giving us good tips for places to eat and how to deal with our bikes whilst staying in motels at the start of our journey - they even threw in a lightweight bike bag to go some way to solving our bike lock disagreement which is still on going...;-)


On the way to the bike shop in the morning we had the funniest bus trip. Not only did the bus driver utter more than grunts at us (as you would receive in London) he proceeded to ask us what we were up to and how much fun we would have. As new people got onto the bus his chatter continued, flowing into a description of all the bus stops along the road - including 'Starbucks Corner' where there was one on each side of the corner! You can't escape them.


Best quote so far: 'If you want to lighten you bike, you have to lighten your wallet' as one of the young guys in the bike shop said to a customer who could only have been complaining about the weight of his bike. I thought to myself he should try lifting my tourer up but i was laughing too much to be able to speak.


Bikes sorted, camping gear bought and panniers packed we went in hunt of a big bowl of pasta in a vain attempt to carb load for our first days cycling. This was the first HUGE meal I have come across - there must have been a whole packet of pasta in my meal, and yet i still managed to wolf it down. There is no way I am going to be bonking (I promise this is a cycling term for hitting the wall) on my first day!

Good News Bad News

We are now the proud owners of two Marinoni touring bikes in true 'his and her' style - one Canadian fire truck red with yellow and one green, like Percy the engine. If only we could have bought some sunshine for tomorrow. Weather forecast - snow!

Trading Dollars for Pounds

I started the day flush with dollars and ended it heavier in pounds of steel and camping gear. After french toast and fruit salad we went back to La Bicicletta so I could test drive a couple of bikes. I had got into my head with true bravado that I wanted the bike set up with Campag gearing. Two hills later - all unloaded except for the Griffin thighs - I decided I definitely wanted my original choice with the kinder Shimano gears. Minutes later I was kitted out with the usual extras that bike shops throw in for 'free' when you spend a lot of money with them. They even helped me name the last three American states - a task we have set ourselves to fill moments of cycling monotony! It may even keep Tim's mind off my incessant singing of Queen - I want to ride my bicycle - when the hills get too tough and it sure beats counting.

In a moment of indecision, Tim decided he would also give the bike a go. He set off, leaving me in the shop as his guarantee of return.....! Although he liked the bike, once we left the shop it soon transpired that he wasn't too happy with the colour - my irrational female way of picking things (which included me changing the comfy women's saddle my bike came with for a sexy sleek razor type men's one) has obviously rubbed off on him.

One bike sorted, we headed to MEC (Mountain Equipment Co-op) where we had fun (!) picking the lightest camping equipment possible - you really can get tents for little over the weight of a bag of sugar, and our stove is the size of a pack of cards. In true Canadian kindness one guy even tried to sort our rapidly heating debate (?) for what bike lock to get. Sadly we still haven't agreed on a solution ;-)

One bike down, camping gear sorted, we then hunted down some more Cannondale touring bikes for Tim to try. One was too big and one (on paper) he decided was too small. I'm not sure Vancouver will have enough bikes for Tim's high standards. Two days down - tomorrow is D(ecision)-day for Tim's bike so watch this space.

Back in the hotel, of course we had to try setting up the tent. I think however this was a ruse so that when the bike lock debate resumes there is somewhere for me to be banished ;-)

As we wondered home I kept noticing cool little details to our surroundings. Surrounding the trees there are leaves in the pavement....

.... and the top of vents are shaped like mountains...

John Candy of the Star Ship Enterprise

Waking and getting out of bed at 6am this morning was a tough shock to the system, but was shortly rewarded by a 10 minute trip to our transfer coach in an eventful mini bus journey. Passing our bags to the driver he promptly asked where Tim came from. On the reply of Ireland he started speaking to us in a broad Irish accent. When I said I came from London he started wittering away saying nothing in particular in a Hugh Grant-esque accent - my dulcet west country tones were obviously lost on him. When we got into the bus we learnt our vehicle for the journey was the Star Ship Enterprise; the drivers name was Obi Wan Kenobi (although in reality he looked like John Candy) and the in flight entertainment was from C-3PO! He then drove on to the Hilton to check for any additional passengers and in order to stay in the car he drove the mini-bus right up to the automatic doors, opening them and allowing a window in - inspired if a little unnerving.

The trip down to Vancouver was far more interesting than on the way up - granted by the fact it was daylight this time. The landscape went from snow capped mountains, to rivers and woodland to a large bay with what looked like exclusive houses. It was stunning scenery, although the road surrounding it is a permanent construction site due to ongoing improvements for the 2010 Winter Olympics.

Two hours later we made it to Vancouver and our hotel, and an hour or so later into numerous bike shops. I'm sure as a woman I should enjoy shopping for five hours but I was shattered by the end of it - picking Primark t-shirts is nowhere near as mentally intensive. After walking from shop to shop we ventured into La Bicicletta Pro Bike Shop. The guy quickly started selling bikes to us and I came across a Marinoni tourer which he raved about. They have hand built steel frames with such a cute story behind them: http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/FBeauchemin/About_1.htm

Sadly it was a nine week wait to get my desired paint job so my choices were left as Bianchi green or pea green. I have put one by for a trial ride tomorrow but I am now in a quandary as to which set up to go for. The Bianchi green has a more aggressive set-up using Ultegra equivalent Campag gearing, where as the pea green has mountain bike Shimano gearing of a bit lower quality than the Ultegra I guess. The advantage of the latter is of course that when carting all the extra weight of hair straighteners, make up, heels and not to mention the thighs, up a mountain I will not be out gears just thinking about it...

Tim on the other hand is in more of a quandary. It is likely he will go for the Cannondale touring 1, although a his and hers red Marinoni may pip this to the post.

Bike browsing finished for the day we went to MEC (mountain equipment co-operative) to sort out a tent and sleeping bags. As all who are acquainted with Tim will know, you have to browse first then return to buy exactly what you were looking at the following day (sort of like a self-imposed cooling off period) ;-) That said we had fun finding the lightest, smallest tents and sleeping bags possible - 1.4kg for the tent and 520g for the sleeping bags. As for the camping equipment I had never realised how many gadgets there were out there - origami plastic crockery..?

Vancouver itself is immense. The architecture in the areas we have been today is hard on the eyes and mind - think high rise apartments along the Thames - every where. The photo below is the only building we could find that we liked. The digging up of roads in Maida vale to replace Victorian water pipes pales into insignificance when you see the road disruption in this place. Oh and as for crossing the road Tim and I are clueless - I have surmised that all cyclist couriers in London must be Canadian drivers!

From Two Skis to Two Wheels

OK, so a few days back I gloated about the insinuation that I could possibly be Tim's daughter. Well that one came back to bite me as Tim managed the full 14 days skiing where as I had to have the final day off to nurse my various ailments. In some perverse sense of humour I wish I could claim to have broken a leg or torn an anterior cruciate ligament but in fact I just have a sore knee and neck from not being able to ski on ice properly. Yes, I know - retribution I hear you all cry.

Trying to get luck back on my side I took Tim out for a big piece of chocolate cake when he got back. If all else fails at least the cake will weigh him down ;-)

Guy will be happy to know that from tomorrow we will be on the next leg of our trip and my Internet ramblings will soon encompass bike chat as we hot foot (pedal) it down the coast. We will even include the specs of our bikes for any interested parties - dura ace everything, carbon frame, power pack, comfy sofa seat, chauffeur... ;-) hmm - where are those dream bubbles when you need one?

Any way I guess I better give a few last notes on the snow in Whistler just to bore Guy to within inches of his life ;-) Yesterday we skulked around Whistler and today Tim went off to Blackcomb. Alas you can tell it is the end of the season. Our favourite eatery (yes it is possible to find a mountain top local in under two weeks) has closed for the season, meaning we had to slum it with the rest of the mountain in the one remaining open one. That said it served us well although I am missing the Vin chaud that the french do so well.

To fill my ski free day today I decided I would head off along the valley trail which takes you to a big lake just beyond Whistler Village. It would have been great had I not read the Bear sign at the start of the trail. After 20 minutes of walking along a wooded track I gave in to the voices in my head turned back to the village - all the way practicing my response should I come across one: 'Hello bear. Apparently I am supposed to talk to you firmly, whilst edging away. In the event that you should approach me then I will say NO which should send you fleeing!' Next time I will endeavour to wear a full Morris dancing outfit to ensure no bear in a 10 mile radius has even the slimmest of chances of being spooked by me.

Rambles over it is time for me to absorb myself in bike magazines to eran this evenings steak and beer. I suggested to Tim I may get a Specialized Roubaix Expert but I think his raised eyebrows meant I should think again...

Beth Couldn't Understand Why Skiing had Become so Difficult

The sun came out yesterday for the first time since we have been here. Sadly there is also a festival on too so when we got to the gondola in the morning we had to queue... OK so in Europe this happens a lot but we haven't queued since we got here so we picked the shorter one and went up Blackcomb. The sun had come with a rise in temperature and the snow was more like slush even near the peak. After trying a few runs we decided to head over to Blackcomb glacier which has two entrances. One called Spanky's ladder which was beyond my skills and the other one which included carrying your skis along a ridge.... Mum don't look at the next photo...

I'm not sure the photo looks particularly scary but at the top of it there was just enough space for my foot, the wind was blowing a gale and there was a massive vertical drop. Once we got over, the slope looked like a vertical drop to me but after a while I got on with it. Having said that some poor kid had taken his skis off and was telling his mum he was going to walk down! Once we got to the bottom Tim then informed me there had been a mini avalanche right behind me just as I was trying to get to grips with the slope. He figured it was best not to tell me at the time.
Eventually we stopped for some lunch and lazed around in the sun for an hour or so before heading down to meet Henry Boddington. It turns out Henry (who i went to college with) is also cycling down the west coast with his fiance and has been in Whistler all season. We figured it would be cool to meet so we arranged to meet at Longhorn, a pub at the bottom of Whistler. In hindsight it felt like an episode of 'where's wally'. If only I had worn a stripy red jumper. There is free music every afternoon and the place was rammed. After a couple of beers we decided enough was enough. I couldn't take any more fancy dress 80s ski wear and I couldn't see Henry anywhere....

We headed off to a tapas bar where we decided to have a few drinks and think about how we are going to plan the next part of our trip. Tim started chatting to the waitress who turned out to be a physio from Belfast and after waiting maybe 10 minutes for our dessert she gave us another free glass of wine for having to wait so long! Needless to say we didn't get too far on the trip planning. Besides all i am worried about is having the fastest bike possible to leave Tim spluttering in my dust - pay back for his brilliant skiing prowess ;-)

Today we headed up to the peak of Whistler and onto peak to creek again which was a massive mistake. The snow was ice and after maybe 50m we lost all visibility. To make matters worse I was tired and went flying on a snow snake (where the powder gets blown across the ice - i think). My glasses went flying and acted like a couple of spades scooping up what loose snow there was! I think this was the worst white out (is this what it is called) I have been in. It didn't help that a few of the poles on the side had fallen over so I had no real idea half the time if i was still on the piste. When we came out the other side I decided I needed to go back to bed with a cup of hot cocoa. I couldn't believe the rest of the mountain was in blazing sun and we managed to find the one pocket without it.

No here I am sat in the internet cafe having finally managed to meet up with Henry. They set off tomorrow on their bike trip so hopefully we can keep up to date with their website to find out the best places to stay.

Ooh and I can't believe I almost forgot to say that we saw our first bears today. Two little cubs trying to climb trees near where all the kids learn to ski! Guess that isn't the best place for them to be..

Shattered

I can't remember feeling this tired in a long time. Tim and I both had lessons again today. Mine turned out to be a private lesson so Jim took me off piste, through bump fields and in and out of trees. It was fantastic but the weather was terrible. At one point all I could see were my skis - It all adds to the fun though of course. Tim's day was pretty much the same - at one point he lost his instructor in the white out but luckily he had a lovely lady to follow down the slope who he hoped could see the instructor in front of her.

Not much else to say. I can't comment on the scenery as I didn't see any.

5.5km of Moguls

Woke up this morning, bright and breezy. What shall we do today I thought. I know, lets go skiing.

The mission for today was to ski as many of the runs on Whistler mountain as possible. We started with the Giant Slalom run then headed off to ride the peak to creak - the longest run in North America. I hadn't realised that a run which is groomed only once a week, ended up a mogul field. For 5km I skied over, round and into moguls - I even managed to bridge the gaps once or twice. For the last 1/2km we were treated to slush! Hard work.

Afterwards Tim decided I was ready for off piste skiing. I dutifully followed. I manged the first jump, then the second and third. I was just thinking how I had managed my first small jumps only to realise that to enter back onto the piste was via one last jump. Sadly I didn't realise this until I was on it. In true kiddy style I ended up sitting on my skis. To my delight I managed to stand up again. One girl remarked on my great recovery, to which I retorted 'I knew I was still young really'.

As a final treat for the day I took Tim down the Dave Murray Downhill run. He was like a kid in a sweet shop whilst I clung to my ski poles for dear life. We have definitely earned our beers, ooh and a curry.

Tim Learns to Ski in the 21st Century

Whilst the skiing is fun, writing about endless slopes is getting a little repetitive. The only reportable information is therefore Tim having his skiing skills completely reconstructed. To fill the times when I have been having lessons, Tim figured it would be fun to have some lessons too, to keep everything in check. His instructor's first question was if he had learnt in Europe - apparently they keep their legs together there... take from that what you will about the Canadians.

In a bizarre twist of fate Tim is now no longer trying to get me to stick my feet together which invariably makes me fall flat on my face. I think it was his ploy to stop me from skiing better than him. Either that or he is worried that I will make him do some double black diamonds if I finally work out how to do this skiing business.

Slippery Slope

I barely have the energy to think after today's skiing, let alone type something coherent about it ;-) Today Tim and I skied together although this largely involved Tim dragging me up and down a million slopes. If I call them blue runs that would make them sound simple. The blue runs here seem to be as hard as any red and some times black runs I have skied in Europe. Doubled with the fact i couldn't see half the time it has definitely tested my skills (or lack of) today. Tim even had a couple of unstable moments and not only because he needed a beer.

On the way down this evening we punted along a green connector to join a blue run down. Turning a corner Tim came across a pair of poles on the slope but no owner to be seen. Upon inspection a poor Glaswegian girl had gone over the edge of what i could only call a vertical drop... I came round the bend (I generally pass a point 5 minutes after Tim) to see Tim pulling the poor girl back up onto the slope. They obviously make them tough up North as after a couple of tears she brushed herself off and carried on.

In the same style I had adopted all day I plummeted back to Whistler village without actually ever seeing any of the slope. Tim of course flew down without a problem. Humph.

Jumping Through Hoops

Last night we sat with a beer and watched guys jumping through a 'burning ring of fire'. Luckily they didn't fall in and they definitely didn't go down down down. I'm not sure there was much of a point to the show other than for the skiing and boarding instructors to show off their 720s in front of a load of kids (real and grown up) whilst jumping through fire. We were suitably impressed and in the same vain as suddenly having an urge to take up Karate after watching Karate Kid it crossed my mind that one day I could also jump through burning hoops. Hmm.

Today was another great day skiing. Tim went off to Blackcomb and I had another lesson. It is still snowing but on the peak there was glorious sunshine and I got treated to the first run down one of the slopes which was also completely deserted.

Thank you to all who emailed Tim, even if one was from my mother!

I'm afraid this is it for today - time for beer and dinner.

Any Old Skis Will Do

Tim has told me not to bore everyone by writing quite so much so I will try to curtail my thoughts.

To be honest I only have one incident to embellish the usual ski story of going up lifts, skiing down slopes and eating. After waking to see even heavier snow than yesterday we had another slow start to the day. When we eventually made it up the slope (the gondola takes about 20 minutes) I realised that I had picked up the wrong skis! To make it that little bit worse when I had walked out of the ski shop where we are storing them I haughtily moaned to Tim how they had given me the wrong colour poles (i.e. size). I couldn't understand how blue could possibly sound like silver.... There's retribution for you.

So I hear the UK has snow. Tony - I hope you have managed to ski down Lavender Hill. I could definitely see the young professionals of Battersea joining in. You would have ski rental shops popping up before you could say Eddie the Eagle.

Every day we are realising how friendly everyone is over here - I think I could get used to the same attitude on the London Underground. I have lost count of the number of people who have started conversations with us. I'm wondering if this will wear thin over time but at the moment I am happy to hear peoples suggestions for bike shops in Vancouver and places to see on the way down the coast.

In the wise words of Walt Disney, 'That's all Folks' - time for a beer.

The Snow Just Keeps on Coming

I had intended to write on the blog again last night so I was writing entries under the correct dates, but Tim led me astray and after a couple of beers there was no way I was going to be able to write anything so I will make it my challenge to get up to date tonight.

Yesterday was a brilliant days skiing once we made it up the slopes. The day starting with a 20 minute rest in the Gondola which half way up decided it didn't want to go any further. Left there swinging to and fro, the snow was coming down thick, yet nervous conversation soon ensued amongst the occupants of our car. A couple of the guys were snow patrols (not the band of course) and over their radio we were treated to a 10 minute skit involving a snow boarder (no surprise) who had managed to drop their board from the ski lift and the resultant search for it in low visibility. One guy questioned why she had become detached from the board in the first place. Apparently the other boarder had gone straight into a tree - of course there is only ever one winner in such fights - the tree, and so had taken it off to comfort her friend with the resulting dislocated shoulder.When we finally got off the Gondola it was like a winter wonderland - trees covered in snow and Santa's sleigh bells ringing. Ok not quite but I could imagine it. Tim tried to give me some skiing lessons and did pretty well until he took me down a run where I could only see a few metres ahead of me, at which point it became a survival exercise. Luckily I could no longer see the five year olds flying past me nor Tim a mile ahead so I was happy in my ignorant bliss!

The day continued in pretty much the same vain. One minute we could see, the next we couldn't.

Eventually we made it to the bottom which involved attempting to ski in slush at the bottom of the slope. All I could think about was how much nicer slush is when presented to you dyed blue and in a plastic cup...

Tim had decided that for the third time since being here he would change his boots - honestly I thought women were supposed to be the indecisive ones. So boots changed we had a few cleansing ales then headed for pizza and a film.

I feel I should end today's entry with one last plea - would someone please send Tim an email? Every time I open up to 10 emails his pride is slowly dented that little bit more. It doesn't matter to him that 9 out of 10 of mine are from the likes of Nectar club card. I don't want to have to add him to some trivial mailing list to sort this out.

Post Jet Lag Prose

Apologies for all who have logged onto the blog looking for photos of snow, only to be met time and time again by Tim's bottom! The last few days have been great. I will try to summarise the them in a nutshell - Stephen Hawkings eat your heart out.

Terminal 5 was a delight. No lost baggage and (ahem) very interesting engineering solutions. Someone tells me a pretty good engineering company had something to do with it. Our flight was delayed slightly once we got on - apparently not all the bags had made it to the plane on time. At the end apparently this was still the case although luckily we got ours.

Our transfer to Whistler was long and in darkness so I have no idea what the terrain up here is like. Our hotel room is bigger than our flat. The bed is in fact the size of our bedroom alone.

The snow is brilliant. We have skied for two days so far but jet lag has taken control of us in the evenings. The first night we fell asleep at 8pm! What can we say - party animals ;-)

At the end of the first day Tim decided he was fed up of my technically lacking skiing methods, and took me off to get lessons. He approached the ski school asking what options there were. Much to our dismay the woman promptly asked how old I was. When in a rather smug manner I retorted 28, she quickly told me I looked young. The expression on Tim's face clearly displayed his disdain at the apparent suggestion that i was in fact his daughter! I of course was chuffed that I looked young enough.

So yesterday I went for a lesson and Tim went for a ski tour with lots of crazy Canadians hell bent on getting down slopes in the fastest manner possible. I had a great lesson with a Mancunian (!) who at the end of the lesson said 'lets have a look at the Olympic run', then he said 'tuck in tight' and sent us down it. It wasn't until the bottom that I put two an two together that it was in fact a black run.

Today we awoke, opened the curtains and realised it was snowing. In fact looking out to where we would normally see ski lifts going half way up the mountain, now all we can see are clouds. Needless to say we have decided to have a slow start to the day, and will head up in an hour or so. We were planning on doing the peak to creek run which is the longest run in Northern America (5.5miles) but it doesn't seem such an appealing run when you can only see a few meters ahead of you.