911

First of all, Happy birthday to Jackson, who is now a teenager...and Aaron, my wonderful son-in-law. I love you both!

What. A. Day.  I was up at 5:30 and slapping dozens of mosquitoes in between getting my panniers loaded onto the bike.  I was glad I left so early...Hwy 1 was quiet...a vehicle every few minutes as I pedaled on a shoulder as wide as the traffic lane.  There are cracks in the asphalt, so you have to "pick a line" as you're riding, much the same way you would if you were skiing.

Patty passed me around Donald, which was 20 miles down the road.  She was going to check out the
Arthur Wheeler Hut to see what we were missing and then head for Canyon Hot Springs, which is about 20 miles east of Revelstoke.

I thought the riding today was much easier than the ride on the Going to the Sun Highway, even though the elevation gain was about the same.  At one point, I had a couple of deer bounding along the road ahead of me.  One stopped and took a closer look at me and freaked out, stumbling and falling all over himself as he exited stage right.  It was comical.

The tunnels were coming, and the traffic had gotten steadily heavier.  8 snow shed tunnels of varying length with little provision for cyclists.  No button to push to activate Amber blinking lights that let a motorist know that a cyclist is in the tunnel like you see along Highway 14 near Lyle.

I had just seen my first tunnel sign...and it was about 800m away, when a semi truck passed me and then immediately moved to the side of the Highway and put on his hazard lights.  He ran across the Highway and bent over and as I came up the hill, he motioned for me to cross the Highway.  With all this traffic?!?  But he motioned again, so I waited for an opening and rode across to see a motorcycle that was mangled beyond recognition and a man laying face down and motionless in the ditch.  "Oh, God!"  The trucker's cell phone did not work, so I pulled mine out and dialed 911, giving the dispatcher the location, as near as we could tell the condition of the man, any particulars I could.  He said help was on the way.  Trouble was...Rogers Pass is about 50 miles from Golden and 44 from
Revelstoke...this guy couldn't have been further away from help on this road.

He was moaning and eventually conscious, and the trucker and I ascertained that he was riding alone, that what hurt most was his back, and a promise that he wouldn't try to move much until the ambulance got there.  His face was raw and there was a fair amount of Rogers Pass dirt wedged in his ears and helmet.  But God is good...an off duty policeman happened by to essentially take control of the situation and also an RV that was driven by a German doctor.  Franco...from Saskatoon...I pray you make a full recovery.  I know this...your helmet saved your life.

I'm not gonna lie...that accident had me rattled and I was nervous riding through the first couple of tunnels.  Most are well lit...the third, which is also the longest, is not.  There is a sidewalk...well, it's more like a shelf...not really wide enough for a bike with panniers...that has a 16" drop off to the
pavement.  I don't think it's safe.  I like to enter the tunnel with a vehicle about 200 yards behind
me...so the driver is saying, "Why look, Ethyl, there's a gorgeous cyclist heading into that tunnel!"  To which Ethyl replies, "Slow down, George, I want to see what kind of bike she's riding!"

After the 6th tunnel, I reached Rogers Pass and took a short, but much needed break.  There's really not much there...a Visitor's Center...a closed lodge.  On the way down there was a large construction project on a bridge that was backing up cars for miles.  At first, the flagged was going to make me wait until all of the west bound cars had gone through, but after a few minutes, she relented and let me into the line.

The downhill was amazing...fast and smooth.  There were even more cars backed up heading eastbound.  They kept yelling, "Is there an accident?"  "no," I replied, "Bridge construction."  I felt like the town crier.

Up ahead of me there was an RV and truck blocking the shoulder.  I slowed down and found an older couple with their heads under the hood.  I asked them what I could do for them...he had no service on his cell phone and was trying to contact the couple they were traveling with to let them know that the power steering pulley had broken...he was going to need a tow truck.  I was able to call and leave a message for his friend, but nothing else.  I wished them well and headed down the road, passing through the last 2 snows he'd tunnels.

I was sailing along because the route was almost entirely downhill.  On my right was a pull-off sort of parking lot with a truck and RV parked...and an older couple standing outside looking to the east.  Hey...wait a minute!  I braked hard and pulled off the road.  "Are you traveling with another couple?" "Is your name Dan?"  It was the other couple!  I hope they got their truck repaired!

Patty was in her swimsuit when I got to Canyon Hot Springs, and it didn't take long for me to change into mine.  There are 101 rules at this campground...no shoes on the pool deck, no driving through the campground until 10 a.m., no drinks at the pool other than water...but we got a mosquito-free, shaded campsite and enjoyed the pool all afternoon.  Our dinner...consisted of all of the contents of our food bags:  2 handfuls of peanuts, 1 power bar, 1 pkg. chicken noodle soup, 1 apple, 1/2 bag potato chips, and a few pieces of beef jerky.