The West Commences: Sept. 15, 2012

It’s Saturday, March 15, sunny and hot in the Okanagan. I’m eating some local Concord-type grapes as I type this. They’re my favorite. You get a rush of sweet Welches grape jelly taste when you first bite into one and then a juicy, jelly centre squishes between the teeth and slips over the tongue followed by the tart skin that makes your eye wink. I’m enjoying them so much I can’t remember what I was going to write about.

I am feeling at home in the Okanagan. I’ve returned here many times now and each time I feel better about it. The Rockies are spectacular castles of rock, but I was happy to drive out of them and give my neck a rest. It’s wonderful to watch the rising and setting sun slide luminously across them turning their towering grey to gold and pink and back to grey and then the dark dusty purple of the grapes I’m eating now. Mo, Priscilla and I drove home through them and the Columbia Range, fatigued from our morning bike ride, looking up in wonder at the massive walls of rock above the tree line and the brilliant snow on the peaks, but I was happy to lower my gaze to the expanse of fields, golden grassy hills and orchards of the Okanagan.

Our first day of biking began well, cool, into the wind, heading out of Canmore toward Banff. We stopped early for lunch, and I was wishing we’d continued on a bit, but I soon sobered up. As we settled on the picnic tables to eat, we could see dark cloud and grey mist moving towards us through a break in the mountains. As we saddled up to leave, it was clear that we would be riding home in the rain. We put on all the rain gear we had and started out. Fortunately the wind was now at our backs because it was strong and blowing a heavy rain against us. My glasses stayed dry behind my sun visor and bike helmet, and I felt exhilarated by the storm. I rode faster than I ever had over such a distance. We had to take every piece of clothing to the Laundromat in town to dry because much of it we would need for the next days’ ride. Fortunately, there was a hot tub in the Rocky Mountain Chalets where we were staying. We used it every day either to warm us or relax our muscles. All the rides were through beautiful country; I especially liked the day we ate breakfast at the Rafter 6 Ranch, rode all over and returned there for a barbecue. The hike on Wednesday was good, and the ride on Friday was my favorite. I tried my best to stay with the fastest riders and succeeded. For the last few kilometers there were only 3 of us at the front, pedaling like mad with the wind at our backs. I was so pumped that I didn’t start to feel tired until I began to unpack the car at home. We had thought that we’d be tired and spell each other off at the wheel, but that wasn’t necessary. It also helped that Mo, Priscilla and I get along well and rarely stopped talking. We also ate quite a bit of chocolate which helps keep you going.

I’m getting to be a biker. Instead of grinding up the hills saying, “ I hate this. I hate this,” over and over, I now chant, “ I can do this. I can do this.”