Tag Archives: Kootenay-Flathead Fandango

Day Twelve: Kimberley to Fernie, closing the loop

Following the exhausting and biggest day of the trip, it was unfortunate that due to the flights I got booking so late, we had to cover the same distance again to get back to Fernie in time for me to pack my bike and get to Calgary airport the following day. There was some talk of friends coming and rescuing us if necessary – I don’t think either of us liked the principle of this option.

The first leg of the day was to Cranbrook and timing our departure correctly meant Katie could join us on her bike-commute. What a commute – thirty kilometres of sealed rail trail. Views, hills, traffic-free, peace; my commute is pretty good, half on pathway around the coast, but this one I was a little envious of. In summer at least, I suspect I’d prefer my ride to work in the winter!

Getting off the pathway to look over the embankment across the surrounding valley.

A crazy smooth rail trail, especially after Salmo, it was well good for bikepack chatting.

Saying farewell to Katie as we approached town, we headed off to a recommended cafe for second breakfast. And third breakfast. It was warming considerably by the time we headed out of town, stopping for the last gas station stock-up of the trip, and found another rail trail. This one wasn’t so much pavement, but smooth packed gravel. We took it easy in the shade. Eventually we had to join the highway for twenty minutes, despite our attempts to follow some singletrack that didn’t end up going the correct direction. Coincidentally, some motorcyclists, who made our acquaintance the previous morning in Nelson, roared past during that short stretch of highway riding.

A quiet rural road through plenty of fields with many quaint old North American barns took us to the settlement of Wardner and the Kootenay River. The highway had crossed the river, so it was proper quiet; Wardner was small, without services or any place that looked worth stopping for lunch (or fourth breakfast, as the case may have been). We attacked a steep climb instead, the road getting even more rural and turning to gravel. By now we’d left all traffic behind, found somewhere to lunch and continued climbing before a big downhill back to the river. Also, we were back to meeting other people touring on bikes – albeit hauling two or more times more stuff than we were. I finally got fed up with having to inflate my tubeless rear tyre twice, or more, daily and used the small bottle of sealant I’d been carrying all trip. It improved somewhat.

More gravel roads to whizz down; and yes, still trees to be seen.

Back on the seal for a bit, it was certainly hot enough as we approached the bridge across the Kootenay for our last ice cream stop of the route. Mid-afternoon and hot, we still had fifty generally uphill kilometres to go before starting the drive back towards Canmore. Still a steady pace, Gray Creek Pass’s effects may have slowed us a little. Huzzah, more gravel, sustained climbing; this trip just kept on delivering.

Crossing the highway that took us to the US border on the day we set-off, we were trying to get back to the quiet road that would take us alongside the Elk River back to Fernie. Alas, there was a very large sawmill on the connection; that meant a lot of unnerving heavy traffic on a wide, unsealed and noisy road. Not at all pleasant. While a road was marked around the outside of the mill, it was touch and go as to whether we’d be able to sneak around or get stopped and turned around. By this stage, the desire to get back to Fernie was strong and the thought of backtracking appealed none.

Unfortunately, my last photo of a fantastic trip appears to been a very poor one of a Canfor sawmill; ho hum.

We snuck through unchallenged and on the outskirts of Elko we rejoined our first day’s route and turned for Fernie. We repaid all that altitude lost initially with a gradual, and at times undulating, ascent back to town. A great effort (considering Megan’s dearth of distance biking in the previous year) to put our two longest days of the trip, in heat that we were getting used to, back to back to finish twelve days and nearly twelve hundred kilometres later.

It was a fantastic trip and would have been so if planned months in advance – Megan certainly put a great route together. That I started riding in the heat of North American summer less than a week after being invited while skiing in the south of a New Zealand winter, made the adventure all the more incredible. A bikepacking expedition to be remembered for: trees, long gravel climbs, the heat, cheese, frozen burritos, ice creams, snap peas, shortbread, misplaced electrolytes, bears, eagles, ospreys, an owl, deer, chipmunks, ground squirrels, smoke, moose, picnic tables, mochas, amazing crepes, huckleberries, heinous-rail-trail and I’ve probably gone on enough…

Thanks to Megan for all the organising, excellent route-finding, having me along for a thoroughly enjoyable ride, putting up with my diversions (mostly food-based, but also navigational), and also for all the photos of me that I’ve purloined.

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Day Eleven: Nelson to Kimberley

Blasting down the hills of Nelson early Sunday morning, we couldn’t really tell what the day was like – it was so shrouded in smoke even at that hour. We found a lovely and popular cafe while waiting for the grocery store to open, then stocked up on food. Leaving Nelson, we crossed the west arm of Kootenay Lake on BOB – the big orange bridge.

The sun trying to break through the haze.

Not making a lot of headway through the particulates.

Heading east for the ferry from Balfour across the lake proper, we had thirty kilometres or so to go to meet our preferred sailing at nine fifty. An undulating road beside the lake had us going at a steady pace, while trying not to let our respiratory systems get too irritated – we made it comfortably to scoot in front of the motor vehicles.

For a free ferry, it was much larger than I expected – fitting a surprising number of vehicles, large and small, on and finding room for two bikepackers too.

Disembarking, we let all the vehicles pass before attempting our first hill of the day. A mere hundred and fifty metres, it was hardly even a warm up for what was to come. Not that that preventing us stopping for a tasty food stop – it would be sometime before we saw a shop again that day.

Back on the BC Epic route for much of the day, it was eminently preferable to the horror of the (/a) rail trail near Salmo the previous day.  We left the lake at Gray Creek and headed up, up and up some more.

A gravel road in generally good condition, this consistent climb was just wonderful. Climbing fifteen hundred metres from the lake, it wound its way up with fewer switchbacks than I would have suspected. Even with wildfire smoke obscured vistas, it was a beautiful climb as we focused on less distant views. Averaging out at nine percent gradient, it didn’t seem too bad as we kept a steady pace – with frequent stops to snack or chat to the occupants of the occasional vehicle out exploring.

Up and up.

Slowly getting closer to the pass, which was under the left of that peak.

Three and a quarter hours later, having ridden seventeen kilometres, we were well pleased to crest the pass. I’m sure that’s one of the biggest climbs I’ve done on a bike – loaded or not. We may have celebrated with frozen burritos. After a bit of a rest at the top (a shade over 2000 m above sea level), the much anticipated descent was upon us. First impressions: it was cold. For the first time in the trip, all our layers went on – and still we had chilly digits.

Yet we had exorbitant amounts of fun hollering our way down the long hill. The surface was sublime; generally sound and smooth, there was enough variety to really encourage moving around on the bike, blasting around corners, and hitting enough bumps and rocks to get modest, but still exhilarating, amounts of air.

A.

Complete.

Blast.

We may have thoroughly enjoyed ourselves… Well, I certainly did!

Megan setting the dust flying behind her.

Occasionally we slowed and stopped to appreciate the beauty around us.

The valley widened and flattened out, the surface getting oddly sandy – but not too difficult to ride on. Speed helped!

Enjoying the last of the fantastic gravel excursion in the late-afternoon light/haze.

Getting close to being back on the seal, we were surprised to ride out of a fire closure – very good timing, the area wasn’t closed when we rode in. Unfortunately extensive wildfires ravaged the area surrounding Kimberley in the coming weeks. Suddenly, a bear! The second sighting of the trip. I say that like it was exciting, but thankfully nothing of note happened – it ambled across the road and took off up into the trees.

Back on the pavement, despite our biggest distance and climbing day by far in the trip, Megan had excessive energy left and put the hammer down all the way into Kimberley, some twenty or thirty kilometres. I struggled to keep up after such a long day; I’d blame the gearing on my bike, but even I’m not buying that. We found Katie’s place as the sky darkened (due to approaching night, not smoke) and, exhausted, gratefully accepted kind hospitality. Always nice to meet bikepackers, I especially enjoyed the NZ bikepacking chat.

This was by far our biggest day of the trip in distance, climbing and time – but probably not quite as tough as the extended hike-a-bike dropping down to Idaho in the heat. A great day and another one to remember.

Day Ten: Back to Canada – Sullivan Lake to Nelson

On the bikes by half-seven, we seemed to be slowly getting used to earlier starts – if only to try to avoid the heat. Generally flat, it was an easy beginning to the day through more woods.

This photo was supposed to be representative of the junk yards we saw throughout, but it’s in better condition and there are water-craft rather than expired snowmobiles.

It opened up a little eventually.

An easy, but unserviced, seventeen kilometre run north to the border was before us. But down a lot and slightly to the south was the town of Metaline Falls (and the promise of seeing waterfalls) and I was hardly going to turn down second-breakfast. Finding a nice little cut-through we were soon plunging down to the river. Thoroughly enjoying whizzing down a hundred and fifty metres of steep hill was tempered by the knowledge we’d have to climb back up with full stomachs.

Riding up the slight rise onto the main street, I was struck by the incongruity of a disturbingly-green church and a strangely-large-for-a-isolated-small-town apartment block.

A little research since has shown that Metaline Falls formerly had a very large cement plant for decades, and had difficulty housing the workers – hence the large apartment block. I found the history fascinating and I’m a little sorry I didn’t investigate further while there.

Also, a cement plant explains these large and multiple silos.

Early on Saturday morning, town was rather sleepy – and there only seemed to be one place for second breakfast. But it was delightfully quaint, and the food was plentiful. While I kept eating, Megan went off to the grocery store and met a fellow cycle tourist – his point of difference being he was towing kayak behind his bike on a little trailer!

Quaint, almost disturbingly so, cafe.

The power station that used to supply the cement works.

We never did find the falls of Metaline Falls, but well fed we were happy to head back up the hill (as far as one can be climbing back up a big hill) and head for the border. The climb wasn’t that bad and after the heat of the previous day, we found coping with anything less was pretty easy. Paralleling the river, but never really near, the quiet road to the border crossing was more or less flat. The US border station was a rather beautiful old house, but for some reason I didn’t have the confidence take a photo. Quickly we were let back into Canada, plunging down the Salmo River valley before very gradually following it upstream to Salmo itself.

Yip, still plenty of trees over this side of the border.

Salmo was pretty small, but there was plenty of food (an especially good bakery may have filled any spare space I had in my rear-bag) and a good park for napping in the shade while Megan explored a bit more.

Heading north for Nelson, we got on a rail trail immediately. It was the most heinous rail trail I’ve ever been on. Fine sand, all cut up by ATVs, we bailed promptly for the quiet highway – yes, it was so bad that we preferred a sealed, direct road. I determined that I would not ride the BC Epic 1000 (may be persuaded otherwise now the memory fades). After a few kilometres we had another go at the rail trail, it was OK for a while – then we escaped again as the surface deteriorated.

Turning off the highway for the settlement of Ymir, we did find some backroads for a little while. It seemed a good time to stop and admire the view of the river, and as we weren’t heading for the backcountry, eat some of the excessive amount of food we’d been collecting that day. Also, there was a shop – it seemed right to support them too.

Strangely, eating well too much, too quickly caught up with me and every pedal stroke up the long gradual climb was somewhere on the range from pronounced discomfort to pain and onto agony. Well, it can’t have been too bad – I could still pedal and keep going; it definitely wasn’t shoulder-dislocation pain. Plus, there was only thirty kilometres to go. I survived – but I was relieved to blast down the steep hill into Nelson, find a park and stretch out on soft grass in the shade.

The smoke was far denser back in British Columbia, so views afar weren’t fantastic; Nelson was definitely filled with interesting people and architecture but. Unfortunately, getting a bit ahead of things, I’d led us too far down the hill so we had to turn and climb to what seemed to one of the highest streets in all of Nelson. We made it to Darcy’s (a friend and former workmate of Megan’s) place high above the city (pity about the smoke) for a pleasant evening of food and friends.

Day Nine: Panhandle CG to Sullivan Lake

Away before seven o’clock, it was our earliest start yet. Knowing that the day was due to climb over 40ºC is a reasonable motivator for not faffing around. Only a mile from the campground we left the road running alongside the Pend Oreille, beginning a long gradual climb (it averaged out at one percent) up a wide valley floor. The gravel began soon as the day quickly warmed.

The post-dawn light was rather lovely, and in parts the trees gave way to a bit of grassland.

The lots of private property gradually thinned – not that they had led to any traffic, the place was wonderfully deserted. A few stagnant lakes came and went as we meandered by. Suddenly, our first bear sighting of the trip! Some hundred or so metres ahead it ambled across the road and disappeared into the forest. Giving it plenty of time to clear off, we stopped and admired the beauty around – and probably ate too, we were bikepacking after all.

The gravel became an unmaintained track – the best type, with grass growing down the centre. If it were possible, things became even more sparsely populated.

It was nice to have the trees crowding in and shading us; we were pretty sure the track would go through as indicated on the GPS… Things rapidly heating up over the next hour, we happened across a big patch of wild raspberries – definitely worth stopping for some relief from the heat shortly before hitting a sealed road.

Joining Sullivan Lake Road, we could have headed up to the lake easily. The only snag in that plan is that I wouldn’t have survived well on the food we had. Quickly losing the altitude we’d gained, we were soon crossing the river to reach the small town of Ione.

There was at least a fantastic red, grated bridge to cross. Looking down through the steel deck, which was mostly empty space, to the river far below was rather unnerving.

Resupply in a dated supermarket was sufficient, if not mostly forgettable. We did at least get to cross the river again.

Of course, we could have taken the direct road to the lake and climbed less than two hundred metres. But why do that when you can head deep into a national forest, try to navigate on roads that are nowhere near those marked on the GPS and climb an extra four hundred metres? It was going to be cooler at 1200 metres anyway, why wouldn’t we sweat all the way up there to find out?

Also, we hadn’t had our fill of tree-sighting for the day.

A good two and a half hours took us from the river to the summit with plenty of stops for rest and refilling. It was grand, a wonderful climb and so much the better for being on gravel with no traffic.

With all that effort, we did get to bomb down through four hundred metres of descent in half an hour. Brilliant.

Fortunately a youth group had checked out early – otherwise the two large campgrounds at the head of the lake would have been completely booked out. After thoroughly checking all the sites and finding few available, and resting in the shade, we set up camp and continued resting in the shade and in the cool of the lake.

While our shortest day of the trip after leaving Whitefish, the 41ºC really sucked a lot of energy and the afternoon off recovering was much needed.

The two campgrounds were only two because there was an airstrip bisecting them.

And the planes had tents next to them, it was completely adorable.