Day 47

We woke up and headed across the street for some breakfast. Walking down the street I all I could think of was Rambo. Inside the dinner it was what looked to be a typical morning. Mostly locals getting their breakfast on their way to work and one guy getting his “dinner” on the way home. Have worked many different shifts through out my life I know what it’s like to go to the dinner at the end of a shift for dinner when everyone there is getting breakfast. He gave in and got breakfast, I have had the joy of the extreme looks ordering dinner at what it my dinner time while everyone around me is eating their breakfast. Oatmeal and an omelet for me, oatmeal and pancakes for Jerry. While we ate a pickup with an extra loud horn drove by, it’s toot loud enough to almost knock a woman in the parking lot off her feet. It was quite a sight. 

Back to the room to get ready. Our hotel manger was very nice, she politely pointed out that our cloths were outside on the chairs after it got dark. Her nice way of saying bring your stuff inside, it won’t get any dryer tonight. This morning while leaving she wished us good safe journey and don’t forget anything! It was a very nice gesture but it was also one of those moments where just a second ago I was sure I would have zero problems… now I’m worried, did I forget something?

We headed west. This brought us all the way through town. Though we did stop for some oranges. It’s always hard to judge, do you have enough, because if you have too many, they will take them away at the border. Other fruit is fine… but for some reason citrus can not come into America. I think I got all upset last time they took my oranges away, so this is a scary preposition. I do have the list of ok fruits and veg from the day they took my stuff. However, it’s funny that most of the things prohibited are the things I would want and the things allowed aren’t prohibited. I wonder how many people fit into the other category, wanting all of the things that aren’t prohibited and not really caring about the things that are. 

Town was quickly over and the highway felt like it took us along for the ride, like swimming suddenly faster when you head down stream. Route 1 was two lanes each way here on this stretch. We haven’t seen route 1 for a while… since Medicine Hat. It was windy again. I mean not like Moose Jaw to Medicine Hat but certainly more wind then the last few days. It was remarkable in that the road had shade from the trees along it’s side. We haven’t had road side tree shade really, since Pennsylvania. 40 days! 

We chatted a bit, but like I said the faster traffic and general vibe of the highway being quicker lead us more to just motoring. Here, past all of the mountains the ups and downs melted away to mere bumps. It’s hard to tell but I feel as if encountering some of these roads on day < 10 would have been different. I mean, we did these last 47 days so obviously the toward the end road in the beginning wouldn’t have stopped us. I think I’m just trying to say I can feel a different type of power, energy and confidence. Having seen SO MANY people heading east it’s hard not to think about our trip in reverse. Imagining the drop as the climb or the climb as the drop. Would we end up hitting the same cities in the other way? 

As we made our way down Route 1 I could see the peaks of the near by mountains. There really is something majestic about mountains poking out of the earth reaching for the sky. One of these mountains looked like the Matterhorn. I am 90% sure it was actually Williams Peak… And 100% sure not the Matterhorn. What ever it’s name, it was spectacular. The clouds making way as it reached for the sky. Snow clinging on to it’s side loving it’s home too much to flee, acting like a white scarf. Keeping the hill side cool in temperature and looks. 

The road left the mountains toward the low lands. These looked like a new set of farm lands leading from the mountainous high lands toward the coastal cities. The tree’s shade quickly faded leaving us to be in the sunny wind of the farm lands. Approaching the city of Cilliwack, city in the country, a fitting slogan I thought. As we passed through I questioned if I would call this a city but it certainly had sprawl. I couldn’t believe, when we first saw signs, I knew our turn was inside the city so I checked the map. 11 miles.  … 11 miles?!?! We haven’t even actually entered the main city and we’ve got 11 miles left before our turn? This is a big city! Or at least wide. 

We came to our turn. Route 1 was nice to be back on, knowing we have now gotten this much closer to our goal. But heading up this way will give us a moment to have a room tonight and leave a short ride right into the part of Vancouver we want. Route 11 north was a nice change of pace. It ran from the USA to Route 7… our goal highway for tonight. I imagine down by the states there was some city, at least gas stations, duty free stores and the likes. Heading up into Cilliwack, the city in the country. And making it’s way through the farm lands before crossing the Fraser River. 

Across the river and left on Route 7. This was not the most bike friendly of roads. It was fine, but the shoulder would come and go at will. There was lots of turn offs and ons with not much run way or leigh way. There was logging companies on the water next to the road. Huge logs floating along the waters edge waiting their turn to be brought in for milling. I have heard of floating logs along water ways before, but I just assumed there would be a rush to get them out of the water the moment they arrive. Here the logs sat, with no sign of removal. 

This was  an odd section of road. There was kind of nothing… Lots of cars and trucks driving in both directions, but to where was no readily apparent. The water ways had logs floating, but again to or from where, unknown. And suddenly there was a town. Not the biggest or best town but it was the most… well anything we’ve past since turning on to Route 7. Of course not the town where our hotel was, so we pressed ahead. Finally we came to our hotel. Not really what looked to be the best ever, but the was a Boston Pizza across the street and they had included breakfast, and a wine store attached to the building. So you know, it couldn’t be all bad. 

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MikeDiazTheFirst

Mike was born in Queen, New York to a blue collar family. An avid self educator, artist, and traveler he’s traveled around the globe three times while immersing himself in the culture of 48 different countries and counting.  Read about his journeys and musings here.

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