She’s beautiful so why does nobody talk about her? Well, except maybe the grey-haired RV crowd who cruise up and down her all summer long.

Most travellers in Beautiful British Columbia – at least according to the licence plate – are well aware of the Trans-Canada Highway, the Coquihalla, the Cariboo Highway and the South Provincial.

But Highway 5 doesn’t get the same publicitys.

We’re not, of course, talking about the famous Coquihalla 5. No, no, no. Those who want a more leisurely pace packed with picturesque scenery as they head north from the Lower Mainland can peel off at Merritt and take Highway 5A. It was the right choice for me to go that way, with Brody following, even though it was 12 kilometres longer than The Coq to get to Kamloops. It wound around Nicola Lake like your favourite comfy socks making you feel good, so good. There are all sorts of RV parks, boats and golf courses all set to enjoy the coming summer.

For me, in early May, traffic was limited, and the hills pretty well non-existent. Not like The Coq’s massive escalating tributes to transportation politicians, make that engineering, and the BC Liberals eschewing safety by kowtowing to its favoured constituency with 120 km speed limits.

North of Kamloops, however, Hwy 5 comes into its own.

The road offers outstanding views as it follows the North Thompson River which cuts a path between the Cariboo Mountains to the west and the Columbia range to the east. There’s lots of foliage, although around Barriere you can see where fire and pine beetles did their devastating thing a few years back.

After Clive and I connected at Little Fort on Wednesday we decided to spend the night in Clearwater. On our way, I was humming along when all of a sudden a deer bounded up on to the shoulder startling me for a sec. It started prancing up the road ahead of me before cutting over to the other side and disappearing just as quickly as it appeared.

(Just as an aside, it actually isn’t the biggest encounter with wildlife on a bicycle I’ve had recently. I’ve seen a bear three times in the last year. In Burnaby! The most recent coming just two weeks before our departure and it was the most jarring. I was in the Burnaby Mountain area going down a hill when a bear jumped out on the road from some bushes next to the Kinder Morgan operation. He looked at me bearing down (pun intended, of course) on him and with a surprised look on his face he turned and sprinted across the road heading into a residential area to no doubt surprise some others. A couple of seconds difference and I might have been road kill! I also encountered two huge moose last April while riding on the highway near Cousin Marg’s place just outside of Riding Mountain Park in Manitoba. Deer sightings around her place are so ubiquitous they’re not even a passing thought in her neck of the woods. But two Moose, who loped across the road after staring at me while I stopped too frozen to take a picture, now that even surprised Marg and hubby Bob. That same trip I also came across a spooked dear who had just crossed a busy street in Medicine Hat and then looked at me riding along a frontage road and sprinted away.)

Since Highway 5 is in a river valley it’s not too hilly for cyclists. Not that there aren’t some challenging inclines but nothing like the Rogers Pass or the Coquihalla Summit.

Sometimes the highway is right next to the river. There was one spectacular spot in Thursday’s ride between Clearwater and Blue River where the river is a raging fury. It’s no wonder. At that juncture one of its tributaries, the Mad River (honest, that’s what the sign said) joins the North Thompson.

There’s also a regional park called Little Hell’s Gate. We didn’t visit, but apparently it’s a reasonable facsimile to the touristy one in the Fraser River Canyon.

We stopped for lunch at a wonderful rest spot about halfway through our journey. It was nice to eat as the river flowed by. There were plenty of travellers who had the same idea. The scenic serenity was suddenly broken when a bus pulled into the parking lot. Out jumped a tour manager and he headed straight toward the river. He was soon followed by a bunch of hustling seniors, some almost running – or at least I think they were running because it was almost slow motion. It was a little perplexing at first, but then all of a sudden they were waving at a train flying by on the other side of the river. Turns out it was the Rocky Mountaineer – which knows scenery when it sees it – and a bunch of their fellow travellers were on it.

Snow-capped mountains loom large over Blue River. Heli-skiing is big here with Mike Wiegele’s well-known outfit based in the town.

Our campground is right next to a lake. While another camper had jumped in Thursday afternoon and swore the water wasn’t colds, Clive and I weren’t quite prepared to do try. Besides, our legs had the strength the baked lasagna Clive had for dinner after 112 kilometres of pedalling.

Thursday’s ride certainly had more challenges than Wednesday. Not only from a hill perspective but because it’s in a valley there are a lot of confusing crosswinds. Both of us experienced stretches in which we were headed downhill but our speed made us think something was wrong with our bikes.

At times, we had gone up inclines faster than we had gone down these ones. While the wind wasn’t strong – certainly nowhere near as the tough headwinds Clive experienced in going from Williams Lake to 100 Mile House on Tuesday – it was just another little interesting tidbit about the beautiful highway that could use a publicity makeover.

Oh well, so much the better for our enjoyment as we continue on to Valemont Friday with the goal of reaching Jasper on Saturday.

• Nephew/son Brody has reached Kamloops, but plans to rest in knee another day. I really hope he can catch up because I don’t want to lose a C (the concertina he’s packing) from the blog’s title.

Kilometre count

Grant: Day 6 112 km; Total 608

Clive: Day 3 112 km: Total 334

Brody: We’re not sure, but he did pass all of his courses and will be receiving an engineering degree from UBC! Congrats Brody

Our family is paying close attention to what’s happening in Fort McMurray since brother Ian and his family have called Canada’s oil boom capital home for about a decade. Rosamond posted a message on Facebook saying she and Matthew headed south to their former hometown of Athabasca after the evacuation order was issued and is officially safe. They couldn’t, however, find a hotel room there. Ian was OK at Suncor north of town while Daniel is still in Vancouver after finishing his second year of engineering at UBC and is staying in my condo.

The trials, tribulations and triumphs of The 7Cs is trivial in comparison to the possibility of a family losing a home. Nonetheless here is the latest instalment of caravan news.

After chugging up to the Coquihalla Summit on what will likely be the hardest hill of the trip and a ton more inclines into Merritt on Sunday I was a happy camper.

Or so I thought.

Turned out I was figuratively a happy camper because literally I am not a happy camper.

I haven’t camped in about 4 1/2 decades. In those days I let Daddy to it all, even though it wasn’t his favourite activity either. I’ve relied on my nephew to show me the way around a campground. Although he’s way less than half my age, he’s an experienced camper. And a happy one too. He’s told me to “squeeze this, squeeze that; strap this, strap that; push this, push that.”

He knows what he’s doing. I don’t. Extricating myself out of small tent a few times a night to do you-know-what can be arduous with old bones like mine. Sleeping on a blow-up air mattress doesn’t help either.

We went to sleep the other night in Merritt with the ‘Ribbit-Ribbit’ refrain from the Bullfrog Chorus going strong. An all night plant, a nearby road and a swollen Coldwater River raging right beside us provided the backup sounds.

Eventually sleep comes. Reluctantly. But the audio relief was brief. At daybreak chirping birds became the main act. Turns out Brody’s earplugs weren’t only utilized to tune out his uncle’s snoring.

I’m definitely the diva in this group having already taken my third motel room of the trip. I like my WiFi, queen-sized mattress and Continental breakfast. (I’m also the diva when it comes to bicycle mechanics, but that’s another story.)

Well, I have just three words for Grousing Grant: Deal with it!

While we’ll be visiting relatives en route and maybe indulge ourselves in a hotel room down the road on this once-in-a-lifetime trip, there is no doubt the most efficient and effective way to complete the journey is by camping. So I have to keep telling myself, “Quit complaining, and unpack the tent.”

Or conversely, “pack up the tent.” Which is what Brody and I did Tuesday morning. We made our way to the old No. 5 Highway for the ride up to Kamloops.

But on the edge of town we parted ways. Sort of. With his knee bothering him he decided he’d ride for a couple of hours and see how far it got him. Turned out it was about 40 kilometres where he set up camp.

All indications were the old route would be quieter, prettier and flatter than continuing on the crazy Coquihalla. Turned out it was even quieter, prettier and flatter than I thought. The first third of the trip around Nicola Lake was just gorgeous. Spectacular scenery. Vehicles bombed by occasionally and certainly at a lot less pace than the mad-rush on the rural freeway with its 120 km speed limit.

It was a pleasure to ride that route on such a sunny day and the time flew by as I did the 95 kilometre trip in a little over four hours. Meanwhile, to the north, Clive left Williams Lake for Day 1 for him so we can meet up in Little Fort on Wednesday. Clive, however, had to battle brutal head winds all the way from 150 Mile House to 100 Mile House. He travelled 96 kilometres from home in about six hours before setting up camp. His non-nature older brother, naturally, settled into a comfy hotel room bed.

• Tuesday: 95 km Total to date: 370 km

* Happy 86th Birthday Aunt Ruth

Invigorated by two terrific days on the road to start The 7Cs, I was eager to have Brody catch up to me from his night up on the mountain and then rock and roll toward Kamloops on Highway 5A.

With his wonky knee I didn’t expect to go all the way to The Loops because I wanted to hang with him all the way to Little Fort to meet up with Clive. Turned out I hung with Brody all day all right. All day in Merritt.

He felt the knee needed more rest. I decided I might as well stick around the western-themed town because it should only take me two days to rendezvous with Clive on Wednesday. It also gave me an opportunity to get some much needed camping experience with an experienced hand nearby.

The Coquihalla shoulder gravel pits ate up the rear tire of Brody’s recumbent bike. So he wanted to find a bike shop to pick up a used replacement because he was uncertain if the one he had would get him to Kamloops. We found a place on the Internet called Breathe Bikes, but we couldn’t find it. We went to the address on the web and couldn’t see it.

So he headed to the Nicola Valley Aquatic Centre in the hopes the water would help his knee – and where he could get a cheap shower!

Well, the uninhibited and friendly guy our Brody is, had no qualms about starting up a conversation with another centre patron and he told him the bike shop was in the back lane. Hallelujah!

It was tucked into a garage. Not a gas station garage. It was a regular suburban home garage. After some digging around the owner and Brody found an old kid’s bike with the right tire size. The cost was only $5 if Brody wanted to take it off and install it on his own bike himself. No problem.

Then we headed to a park Brody spotted as a possible place to pitch our tent. He fixed up his bike some more and fixed some lunch for himself with some near little gizmos and gadgets to make a hot pasta, vegetable soup (see above). Resourceful guy.

While he was doing that, I shed my shoes and took my lily-white feet with the cyclist tan lines for a walk in the dandelion-filled grass.

Even though there was likely some city bylaws calling camping in the park beside a fast-running creek swollen with spring runoff a no-no Brody was totally comfortable with the concept of what he called ‘dirt-bagging.’ Me, being the old fogey I am, call it illegal camping.

While I ran off and watched some ball games, Brody found out from another new-found friend there was a campground in town with nice washroom, showers and, most importantly, WiFi. I was more than willing to pay the $20 fee even though I could sense Brody would have loved to dirt bagged like he did the night before high up on the Coquihalla.

While I move on Brody says he’ll rest another day in Merritt and then try to take on the trip in bite-sized pieces, 20-30 kilometres a day to start with. He believes it will take him a couple of provinces to catch up to Clive and I. The word is from other cyclists, knee injuries like his get stronger as the trip progresses. Here’s hoping that’s correct because it wouldn’t be the same trip without him.

The day started in Hope with the hope I’d be able to tame what I expect will actually be the toughest section of the trip even though there’s still about 6,000 kilometres to go.

After a modest seven kilometre hill climb out of Hope, it was a gentle incline for about 18 km. Then the grades turned nasty for just a shade under 20 clicks. For most of the climb up to the infamous Coquihalla Summit (1,244 metres), I was crawling at between six or seven kilometres an hour. I took about four breaks along the way to hydrate with the sun beating down and rest my legs after pedalling a total of 145 kilometres on Day 1.

Another rider I encountered en route Saturday said going through the Great Bear Snowshed was scary. Fortunately, the snow had cleared and I was able to go on the gravel-filled path on the outside of the shed, much to my relief.

It took nearly four hours from Hope to the top and the former area where the toll booths used to be. But the exhilaration of conquering the Coq was worth it.

I then headed to the Britton Creek rest area to meet up with Brody. He had been worried his wobbly knee wouldn’t be able to handle that tough climb. But his fine fiddling friend Noriko volunteered to drive him there so he could start at a more reasonable point.

It was a beautiful spot, even with some snow hanging around on the ground. I had to wait for about an hour before Brody and Noriko arrived. Bless Brody’s heart, he emerged from the car carrying a bottle of Diet Coke, my addiction of choice. He even had a second in Noriko’s cooler. I was wondering how I was going to get my fix Sunday with no stores for the whole route.

They also came carrying food. They cobbled together a neat little curry lunch.

Brody also fixed up his clip shoes and his recumbent bike to lessen the pressure on his knee.

Finally shortly after 4 p.m., we were off. We figured there’d be more downhill than uphill after that with only 65 km to reach Merritt, which would benefit Brody.

How wrong we were. At first the inclines were slight. I was even pumping along at 25-30 km/h. Then came Larson Hill which was a tough couple of clicks to the top. Not quite as bad as the Coquilhalla Summit incline, but tough nonetheless.

For Brody and I it became almost treacherous trying to ride that fine line of road shoulder that runs about 10 centimetres between the rumble strips and the gravel/sandpits that make up the rest of the shoulder.

At the top, and just before a 4 km descent, I waited for Brody to catch up. And waited, and waited, and waited. The view, however, was fantastic.

An hour later he arrived. Turns out he’d fallen victim to the gravel pits and had to change a tire. He’d only been on the road for an hour and he’d been hit by another adversity!!!

The good news was he thought his knee felt good, and felt he’d make it to Merritt. So off we went again. We thought there was just one or two more hills in our way. How wrong we were!

After flying down that hill it seemed like for the next 20 kilometres every time I reached the crest of an uphill climb there would be only a short flat stretch, and yet another hill. And they kept coming, and coming, and coming.

Someone had said at least the ride into Merritt is downhill. Well yeah, the last 12 kilometres maybe. I reached Merritt, 120 hard kilometres from my morning start, just as the sun faded behind the mountains. In hindsight, I probably should have stuck with Brody. When it got dark he decided to camp at Comstock Road. A good move. Riding down that hill in the dark would not have been a good idea. Sorry about that Brody.

I, of course, headed for the nearest Travelodge.

Monday we’ll venture off the Coquihalla Highway to get to Kamloops. The Coq is about 80 kilometres from Merritt to The Loops, but there are lots of hills. So we’re going to head up the old highway, 5A, instead. Although it’s 12 km longer, it’s much less hilly and we’ll avoid having to deal with all those big trucks right up against the shoulder and vehicles flying by thanks to the 120 km speed limit.

After that it’s another 93 km to Little Fort to meet Brody’s dad Clive. Even though I’ve racked up 265 km in two days, we’ll probably take three days to join the originator of this epic journey.

• Glad to see such a good response from so many for this blog. Many thanks, especially to one of the early faithful followers, our Aunt Ruth. She turns 86 on Wednesday, so if I don’t do another blog before then Happy Birthday to a special woman who has five grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren. Love you Aunt Ruth.