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.

With Brody sidelined by his wobbly knee, I set out on my own Saturday to meet up with younger brother Clive on Highway 5.

I left about 9:30 a.m., and before noon I was in Mission. Although I had added a few more items to my packs, and also put two on the front which I hadn’t done for our little Vancouver Island diversion last week, the bike handled well.

While sporting my brand-new Jubilee Cycle jersey, I trundled along quite well over mostly flat terrain on a perfect day. As my new kilometre counter – expertly installed by former bike-shop expert Daniel late Friday night – got to 97 and I was buoyed by nearing 100 km, all of a sudden a hill emerged to put me and my lactic-acid filled legs in my place. It did not flatten out again until I hit that 100 milestone.

During that climb I encountered some randonneurs out for a leisurely 300-km weekend ride. One told me to do my best to avoid the big Great Bear snowshed when I’m climbing the Coquihalla suggesting I go on the outside if the snow is all gone. I’ll do my best to heed his advice. I may catch a ride with Brody and Noriko through the shed as they head north to meet me at the summit.

After taking a break at Agassiz at 2:30 I figured I might as well shoot for Hope. It was too early to call it quits and it was only about 35 km away. I tried to keep up a steady pace while trying not to turn my legs into putty. I had some success. There was only one 1-km hill the rest of the day, which of course, courtesy of the cycling numbers karma gods, came just as I was approaching the 125 kilometre mark.

I admit during the last few kilometres into Hope I felt a little lightheaded despite consuming two water bottles, a Super Big Gulp of Diet Coke and a can of calorie-free iced tea during the day with no washroom pit stops.

I rolled into Hope in time to find a motel, shower and watch the Vancouver Canucks get unlucky in the NHL Entry Draft. Again.

Hopefully a good night’s sleep will give me enough energy to conquer the Coquihalla. If nothing else, I’ll be mega-glad to reconnect with Brody as we make our way to meet up with Clive.

A pedal hasn’t been pushed, a brake applied or a concertina button depressed and there’s already been a bit of a setback to The 7Cs before it even turns a wheel east toward Halifax.

Last week, Brody and Grant set out on a trial ride. The plan was to take the ferry over to Vancouver Island and visit Brody’s uncle on his mom’s side, Blair Mennegozzo, in Campbell River before returning via the Sunshine Coast. Tagging along was Brody’s fiddling friend Noriko with her tiny, tiny super-cute doggie Yumemi securely perched in a bag on the back of her bike.

 

The journey started well. The bonus was Blair and his wife Carmen were camping in Nanaimo. They were there to support their daughter Sumner at Vancouver Island University’s interior design program’s final show.

Rendezvousing with them was a matter of riding out to Horseshoe Bay (with a stop at Troll’s for fish and chips while Noriko cheated and took the bus) and then a leisurely ride – including a sun-soaked gelato stop on the downtown Nanaimo waterfront – to their campground site at the south end of the city. We had a nice night of pizza and kibitzing around the fire.

That fun and frivolity was followed by my first sleep in a tent in about four decades, something that will take this sexegenarian some getting used to. Rolling off an air mattress and then climbing out of a claustrophobic pup tent a few times a night to do you-know-what is rough on the old body.

The goal the next day was to get about halfway or a little more to Campbell River, some 160 km or more to the north. But just as a lunch break in Parksville came to an end, the clouds let loose and it began to rain. We forged ahead anyway. The precipitation was never that hard but I was a little water-logged by the time I rolled into Buckley Bay a little more than two hours later.

The weather, however, did clear up as I waited for Brody and Noriko to catch up. That was the good news. The bad news was there wasn’t a campground anywhere to be found. So we decided to push on the final 20-plus kilometres into Courtenay where I sprung for a motel room so we could dry out and freshen up with a shower.

Noriko was excited and extremely pleased with herself when she learned we’d ridden about 115 km that day. But after we got to Campbell River the next day (Saturday) all was not peachy keen. Brody admitted his right knee was bothering him and the long ride Friday probably contributed to the discomfort. We rested Sunday, and left Monday to return to Courtenay to take a ferry to the Sunshine Coast.

However, we only went 15 km before Brody called a halt to our little convoy, and called Uncle Blair. He was kind enough to pick us up in his pickup and take us to Departure Bay in time for the 12:30 p.m. ferry back to the Lower Mainland. Many thanks to another nephew, Daniel (Brody’s cousin), for taking a break from his UBC final exam studies to meet us at Horseshoe Bay with his monster truck and take Brody and his recumbent bike back to Burnaby while I rode home.

Brody has been resting the knee this week and keeping his fingers crossed he’ll be ready to roll soon.

I begin this epic journey on Saturday. It should take five days to join Clive just north of Kamloops in Little Fort next week. Clive is begining his journey from his home in Williams Lake. (We’re travelling via Jasper so we can visit with Cheryl and Blair’s brother Brian in suburban Edmonton. It’s also less hilly than going the Trans-Canada via the Rogers Pass.) Clive and I figure we should be able to ride 100 km a day or more all the way to Halifax.

For me, the Hope to Merritt section of the Coquihalla Highway with its steep hills will be the most challenging part not just of the early going but the whole trip.

Brody’s strategy was to take it slow and in small bites while I plowed ahead and he’d catch up with us on the Prairies. But Noriko has come to the rescue. She’s offered to give him a ride to the Coquihalla Summit so his knee will be spared the agony of climbing that hill and I’ll hook up with him there, hopefully on Monday.

For all three of us, though, it’s time to push some pedals.

After Clive Granger’s oldest son Bryce headed to Halifax for love, Clive contemplated retirement. When he was positive he wanted to pull the plug on his electrical career he thought why not cycle across the country to visit Bryce and wife Breanna before they returned to B.C. for good? After all, he enjoyed his week-long bike excursions every autumn as well as cycling around Williams Lake and out at Rose Lake where the family cottage is located.

Second son Brody, an experienced bike tourer, wanted to tag along. Sure, said Dad, but get your engineering degree from UBC first. Clive’s older bro Grant heard about the grand plan and asked to tag along. Well the retirement is on and the degree looks to be in the bag, so the trio are set to head out May 1 – Clive from Williams Lake and Brody and Grant from Burnaby. Uncle and nephew will be doing a trial run to Vancouver Island and the Sunshine Coast the week before the cross-country caravan sets forth.

Grant thought it would be a good idea to keep family and friends up-to-date along the way by doing a blog. As well as being an engineer-in-the-making, Brody is an accordion player. That instrument is a bit on the heavy side so no way was he taking one of those. But he got a concertina as a gift so it’s going into the big bag on the back of the recumbent bike he plans on riding on the trip and he’ll make music along the way. Grant’s former incarnation as a warped tabloid headline writer – where the motto was “when in doubt alliterate” –  inspired him to create a kooky moniker for the blog: Clan of Clive’s Cross-Canada Cycling and Concertina Caravan. That’s a hefty handle so it will be called The 7Cs for short.

Enjoy your summer everyone. We certainly intend to make it one we’ll never forget!