Monday, 30th April

I biked into Masset with a renewed energy, the epsom salt bath and sound sleep having done wonders for my moral.

However, I was almost entirely out of food, except for one bag of “Emergency Cous Cous” and some granola bars, it was time to restock the pantry. Having only a jet boil with no simmer function, cooking is never too easy. While I had my luxuriously delicious "Good to Go" dehydrated meals the first few days, I now had to get creative with grocery store food while still keeping it both filling and lightweight. Small cans of tuna and instant noodle packages became the standard. After the errands, I grabbed a coffee, my first of the trip and enjoyed some Wifi. Catching up with emails, Checking weather, calling to VIA rail to book my ticket for the train back and double checking the sailing times for the ferry. I savoured the last bit of procrastinating and social media checks before I pedalled off again. Stuffing muffins into my belly to fuel my legs to Port Clements. Thankfully the ride would be split into shorter stints this time. All I could hope for was the wind to be at my back.

Coming out of Masset I passed the aptly named: “Drizzle Lake”, a light mist followed me for the ride. Not enough to soak, but enough to make me put on a rain jacket. I had four days left and less cozy camping conditions than the last few days, getting sick was not on the list of things I wanted. A warm and dry shelter, however, was very high. Everything arrives faster coming back on a road you now know, each little interesting spot I saw on the way up seemed to be much closer. Like the pace of time had changed, even though the distance is the same. Just like that, the 40 odd Kilometres to Port Clements soared by. I passed the odd deer and at least a quarter of the island's population of eagles around the garbage dump. One bursting out of a tree hanging towards the side of the highway, making me jump so high that I nearly fell off my bike.

I cruised into town and stopped to grab a quick snack at the small grocer before heading out to “sunset beach park”. Having looked ahead when I had wifi in Masset, I knew it had a picnic shelter for me to camp under. When I arrived, I didn’t bother setting up camp and starting a fire, I simply hopped off my bike with my ketchup chips in tow and walked off to the wildlife viewing platform to stuff my face in peace. The muffins did not last as long as I had hoped and while I may be a healthy person typically, bike touring and exploring has turned me into a ravenous beast, willing to eat whatever can keep my stomach from growling.

The muddy intertidal estuary where the Yakoun river meets the Masset inlet was lit up with the last slivers of sunlight, beaming between the clouds. You could hear a chorus of different birds, all singing individually, but together creating a delicate choir. This was my favourite part about this place, Haida Gwaii in general, no matter where you where you could sit down and be in near silence apart from the sounds of nature. It was easy to escape.

After my hunger abided, I assembled a little wind guard of heavy park benches, barricading the side of the shelter exposed to the estuary, anticipating some mean winds after what I endured at Tow Hill. A couple of cars popped in the campsite area and left, but as the early season trend went, I was once again the only person around. The time I had to relax again today, not rush to find a spot or get somewhere was well enjoyed. It’s now bright enough that at 9:38 I can still see just fine when walking around the woods to find kindling to stoke my fire. However it made for some late nights, regardless of how tired I am. So instead of crawling into my bivy and sleeping in the light, I sat by the fire for quite some time. Reading and writing in my journal while burning the ends of my shoes against the fire. My feet cold enough that I may as well have just stuck my foot into the flames. At one point I thought my shoes where on fire, I pulled it back to see the rubber on the end of my Arcteryx shoes bubbling. As the light disappeared I packed up my things and crawled into bed, the Christmas lights under the gazebo lit up and gave a comforting glow to the area

Tuesday 1st May:

The short bike from Port Clements to Tlell gave me plenty of time to relax when I arrived. I pedalled around the little roads and sat by the water. There’s something almost magical about watching a coastal river, slowly drifting towards the ocean change course and flow backwards. The river in Tlell was one of my favourites. The birds sang on the banks, some I didn’t recognize, and the coppery water stains the rocks red on the banks. But being able to see two completely different rivers, flowing in different ways was my favourite part about it. The change so silent and gradual and then all of a sudden it seems the river has risen several feet.

I continue to quietly read my book at the banks, settling into the sweetness of doing nothing.

At some point, I decided that I couldn't spend my whole day "doing nothing" and left my bike stashed in the bushes to hike to the shipwreck. Even on a trip where I’ve done so much, the feeling of needing to to stuff still followed me. Although, In comparison to other hikes back home, this was a stroll along the beach. Given the tides, this would be my last chance to go, Since parts of the trail become submerged in high tide. I had missed it both earlier today and when I was first in Tlell, so I figured I may as well go now than not at all. It would be a nice way to end the day here. The light sand and clear blue waters contrasted the foreboding skies around me. Flocks of Grebes landed on the river's outflow along the path, startling as I walked by, each time flying in all directions. Although the hike to the shop wreck was beautiful, my now rumbling stomach disagreed with the 10km endeavour. I laid in my cocoon trying to fall asleep, thinking fondly of all the things I would eat when I got home.

Wednesday 2nd May:

No matter what I stuff into my stomach it doesn’t seem to be happy. I’m assuming that I’ve now gotten to the point of caloric deficit that my hunger has simply become a bottomless pit of fat and protein cravings. I longed for the ease of my dehydrated meals, a time that felt years away now. As I left Tlell in the morning I stopped at the Crows Nest Cafe in to grab a few spanakopitas, coffee and iced tea. I checked in with friends and family, My parents only slightly uneasy with having me pedal around an island on my own and not being able to contact me at the drop of a hat. But they where happy for me, they knew I'd be fine. I wasn’t rushed to leave. The section of Highway I'd be biking to Queen Charlotte would only take a couple hours or so and I would have plenty of daylight to find a spot to camp for the night.

For anyone who bikes, I highly recommend the stretch of road. Its quiet enough that traffic isn’t a worry, all the islanders are good about giving you plenty of room. And with the quiet roads, the pavement is nearly perfect. No unforgiving potholes to swallow you up like the mainland or rocks gathering on the shoulders. Just smooth winding pavement along a beautiful coastline.

I sat under what seemed to be a stage in a park by the harbour, waiting for my food to cool, having maybe learned to not simply wolf down my food the moment the jet boil turns off. I’ve burnt my tongue a few too many times this trip to be proud of. Everything is calm, there’s a slight drizzle of rain, I tuck my feet under the overhanging roof a little more. It wasn’t near my campsite, but this was the first spot I’ve had this trip with no shelter to hide from the weather in. Of course it would rain the day I don’t have a roof over my bivy, thankfully on the last night. I did meet another guy bike touring, using the tap at the park entrance to fill his water bottles just as I was doing the same. He was a tree planter from P.E.I., I forgot to ask if he had biked here from there. But we chatted about the weather, how our bikes where both very similar in the way they where meant more for road racing than long distance tours. He was camped down the dirt road a bit, not having paid his camp fees here for a few days he had a note kindly asking him to fork over some cash, So he took off. Bike packing on a planters budget. Little did I know we’d run into each-other a few more times months down the road. The north may be big, but Its easy to run into people.

I didn’t know if the rain would keep up or worsen, but knowing that I wouldn’t need most of my camping things to be dry tomorrow night on the ferry to get a good warm sleep.I had my last fire in a forested campground just outside Queen Charlotte. The burning cedar logs complimented the salty water lapping against the kelpy rocks. The clouds finally rolled in this afternoon, wrapping around the hills and mountains like they do on the coast. It felt almost odd, knowing tomorrow wouldn’t be spent looking for a dry spot to sleep, knowing I’d be dry and hopefully comfortable on a ferry crossing Hecate straight. Drifting on a boat across one of the most dangerous stretches of water during the day? Okay. Drifting across at night when all I can see is exactly nothing? Not my favourite. I fell asleep that night to the sounds of seagulls dropping mussels and clams onto the rocks and raindrops on my tarp.

Thursday May 3rd

On my last island day, I spent the morning at a coffee shop, talking on the phone with my boyfriend, Mom and Dad before finding a spot to stuff myself full of greens and local fish. Which, when I asked the lady at the cafe, found out that the closest place for fresh local seafood was Prince Rupert. As islands surrounded by rich waters go, I was a little disappointed to find that the mainland had more options. Regardless, I went to the restaurant she recommended and ordered as much fish as I could stomach. The waitress seemed surprised by my large order, doubting my abilities and appetite, but told me she was impressed that I actually ate it all. I was hardly phased by the meal and grabbed a snack from my bag after leaving.

Last night I had stared at the ocean as the clouds rolled in and sun disappeared. The whole world turning into a grayscale sort of colour. I had hoped I would see whales on this trip. I’d spent so much of my time along the coast and didn’t see so much as a single seal. But coming to the edge of the world in a time that whales usually begin returning to the north, I was disappointed. As I biked out in the cold afternoon towards the co-op to stock my food for the ferry and train home I saw something puff water out of the bay beside me, and sure enough, right in the bay in front of the Haida Centre was a pod of whales. They quietly breeched the water between the islands as they moved into the inlet. Eventually ending up right in front of the stone beach lined with Haida Totem poles. I sat there for a couple hours, just watching their backs surface out of the water for a couple of seconds before diving down. It was like being transported back in time, sitting on the rocks in front of an old village watching the whales come back. Even a seal popped his head out of the grey-blue waters to watch me for a moment.

It never had to be a spectacular show of the creatures jumping out of the water. Any glimpse, a back, tail or puff of air as it surfaced was enough to make me feel incredibly fortunate. These other worldly beings gliding silently through the water was always something to behold. It’s special, in a way maybe someone from inland would feel. But even living in Australia and seeing dolphins up close nearly every day as I surfed, that never got old.

May 4th

I slept on the ferry, I guess you could call it that. Curled up on my therma-rest between the lounge seats, I buried myself into my damp smelly sleeping bag. My body felt aware of everything much more now, the vibrational hum of the boat engine, every wave we rolled over or into and the lights that stayed on all night. I tried to cover my face with a t-shirt to block it out. I had hoped for a sound sleep but didn’t have it. I already missed the quiet of camping, the crackle of fire and the comforting cries of an eagle somewhere nearby as I dozed off. The uncomfortable sleeps could be left behind, but everything else that went with them will be remembered fondly.

Both my bike and I rolled off the ferry in the grey light, clouds hanging to the mountains and the light rain having just subsided left everything smelling fresh. I felt anything but, the smell of smoke wafted from everything I owned and all my clothes had some amount of dirt on each part of them. My eyes puffy from exhaustion and fingernails blackened and ragged. However physically, I felt pretty okay. A little achey and feeling like I needed a good stretch but aside from that, I felt strong. My bike even made the whole trip without hassle, only complaining a few times and making some new noises, but carried on somewhat begrudgingly. Much like myself.

Lifted onto the train and free of its weighty bags, my little black steed finally got the break it needed. As did I. The train ride was beautiful, at least what I was awake for. I struggled to keep my eyes open, wanting to enjoy the views along the Skeena river but just as much wanting to enjoy some sleep. When I wasn’t passed out, I was lucky to see seals along the shore and old bits of history along the tracks. Not all of them noteworthy attractions, simply old dilapidated structures and forgotten things. The odd bit of machinery overgrown in the lush moss and alders. Just like the whales in-front of the Haida centre it made me wonder what these spots along the railway looked like in its heyday. Before the highway was the main way to get around.

The train rolled into Smithers several hours later, by then I was itching to get off and jump into Ben's arms. He grabbed the bags and the bike from the cargo car as I stepped down from the train, My tired eyes squinted together as I smiled and he wrapped me up in his arms. I muttered a "I made it home alive!" and laughed as he commented on my musky smell.

I ate a whole box of ice-cream sandwiches pretty quickly after arrival. I was still hungry.

Its always the hard trips, the ones with challenge that hold in your mind the strongest. Months later this trip still means a lot to me. It solidified feelings about things and helped me let go of things I didn’t need. Putting myself in the way of a challenge alone is always a little scary, but so long as I keep moving, I know I can make it through, one foot in-front of the other. Bike touring has that perfect ratio of time to adventure to me. You don’t have a schedule as much, no train or bus or plane to catch. No location you have to make it to. I mean sometimes there is, but there’s a pace at which you get to choose. You can stop and enjoy something nice on the side of the road whenever you like, you don’t pass it going 100km/hr. You can stop and camp where you like. You can speed up and crush some km’s or you can amble down the road and look at the scenery. All the choices are your own. Not only that, but the sheer satisfaction of travelling solely on your own strength is empowering. Knowing that you yourself pushed your heavy bags on a metal contraption for 300km in a week all by yourself sure makes you feel like you can do anything.

So go ride a bike against 70km headwinds and eat all the food your stomach wants you to.

Road Journal : Riding Solo on Haida Gwaii pt. 2 - The Slow Road Back.