I love Canada. The surrounding mountains wear the finest emerald coat of firs and pines, and the equally-forested valleys echo with the resounding cries of "eh!" from the populace. I love this place. The people are kind and the wilderness is heart-wrenching. Ben and I are sitting at an A&W fast food join in Fernie, British Columbia to take advantage of the wifi after spending 2 hours at a bike shop in town where the local mechanics struggled to fit a seatpost into his bike. See, Ben has been struggling with a case of the Sinking Seatpost since we left Banff, and I suggested that maybe his seatpost is too narrow in diameter for his seat tube and that is causing it to slip inside his frame. He purchased the bike used on Craigslist, so who knows whether the seatpost came originally with the bike, and after several days of tightening the clamp and building a sand castle of electrical tape around his seatpost, we both agreed that we would stop in a bike shop and get it fixed. But yesterday he made a discovery that cast a Sinking Seatpost to the bottom of his bike concerns. Four Broken Spokes. Whoops! Yesterday we were climbing Flathead Pass, a 1,000ft dirt climb that would take us south towards the Canadian border with Montana. We tend to ride about 5 miles at a time before someone needs to stop to make adjustments of some sort. So when Ben stopped on the climb to adjust his seat height as he had been doing for the past 5 days of riding, I didn't think much of it. He nodded for me to go ahead, and I continued my slow plunge up the pass, dodging rocks and admiring the Canadian Rockies around me. But about an hour later, when I met the top of the pass, I was surprised that Ben hadn't caught up with me as he usually does. I went exploring for water, filled my 3L reservoir with fresh spring water, and ambled back to where I had left my bike on the trail. Ben was still nowhere to be found. I tried yelling, "BEN" and was answered with the utmost melodic of responses. It sounded like Celine Dion. Was it Ben answering my calls, or a prankster with a beautiful voice? I rushed to pack my water onto my bike, and started easing my way downhill. I soon met up with Ben. You cannot imagine my relief. He explained that hwe had discovered 4 broken spokes on his rear wheel back where I had left him, and he had left his bike on the side of the trail. It was about 6pm, and we knew that there was no way we were going to make it over the pass that night. I rode down to where his bike lay, and Ben insisted on jogging the 4 miles. We stood together on the trail and looked down at his fallen bike, a wounded camel with a broken leg. We eased our way over to a good camping spot, and he turned the bike/camel onto its back. Ben proceeded with surgery, and asked for my advice now and then. I pitched the tent, cooked up dinner, and kicked myself for not mentioning earlier that I had noticed how his back wheel had developed a slight wobble. Ben worked on his wheel until the cold night enveloped us in its velvet embrace, and we crowded into the tent to rest.
The following morning, i.e. today, we backtracked 25 miles and rode another 20 to reach the town of Fernie, where the closest bike shop was located. Spirits were a bit low: Ben's bike was hanging on for dear life by a few spokes, and my knee has been sore and making me wonder if I will be able to finish the entire Great Divide route. But when we rolled into town, our spirits immediately lifted. Mine soared nearly as high as the mountains to the west. This town is saturated with bike shops, coffee roasteries, and wide sidewalks where children draw with chalk as parents chat with shopowners. The dumpsters are covered in murals, and the folk are friendly and appreciate thebeauty that surround them. I could live here.
It is a bit chilly out now that it is 9pm. What a day. Ben's bike still needs a few more repairs, and I am nervous about whether my knee will stand up to the rigors of the route or not. I am reluctant to leave Fernie tomorrow, but looking forward to continuing our route south to Montana. Today was a great day with all of its highs and lows, and I am pleased to see the adventure take on a life of its own. Ever onward. More soon :)
