The days are rapidly getting shorter and the hours of reliable daylight after work are over. As such, my weekday rides had become fewer and shorter, but this day I decided to ride to the mid-valley lookout in the Lower Seymour Conservation Reserve (LSCR) even though I knew I couldn’t complete the ride in daylight.
I’ve written about the LSCR, otherwise known as Seymour valley, numerous times. It’s accessed via Fisherman’s trail pictured above, which starts a 10km ride from my door. The trail to mid-valley is about 6km, closely following the Seymour river.
I wanted to see the state of the autumn colours in the forest, and for the first 2 or so km, there wasn’t much to report except the odd vine maple visible off the trail. The yards I passed to get to the trail were full of non-native cultivars bred for their beauty and these were regularly in bright autumn colours, but our native forests were largely still in business-as-usual shades of green.
That is, until I rounded a corner to this scene! A cluster of big leaf maples made my trip feel worthwhile already.
The trail is mostly double track as shown below, though there are a few sections of singletrack with a bit more technicality.
I arrived at the mid-valley lookout about 30 or 40 minutes before sunset, but the sun had mostly passed over the mountains at this point. I watched the sunlight creep up the mountainside on the other side of the valley, and the clouds start to turn pink and orange.
I spent some more time watching the light slowly fade before I figured I should make some progress out before the light fails entirely. I wanted a little bit of night riding, but preferably not the whole way.
Racing the light.. well not really racing at all.
I was down to the last kilometre or so by the time it was properly dark. Once I was out of the trees, I was treated to purple-blue clouds left over from the sunset.
A dry and relatively warm day warranted pulling out my un-fendered single speed Wombat for a ‘bridge to bridge’ loop. This loop, ridden clockwise in this case, is about 32-35km and mostly pretty flat.
The Wombat is my ‘just for fun’ bike, set up with a ~2:1 gear ratio which is a sweet spot between being okay to ride off-pavement without spinning out too quickly on the road. I can comfortable cruise at 22-25 kph which is as much speed as I need.
I rode to Beva Brewing because I knew I’d catch a pal who was riding home from camp there. We had some food and a beer together but then parted ways again afterwards; him to shower and me to toodle in the woods in search of early season salmon. Naturally, I took an unnecessarily inefficient route.
While I didn’t see any salmon (it was clearly too early), the early-autumn forest was lovely to exist quietly within.
Below are three distinct scenes from the ride from my river spot to the ocean. Each very lovely in its own regard.
And finally, as I neared home I was treated to a lovely display of rippled clouds.
This post is of just a rather typical local loop rather than a trip or grand adventure. It was a ‘scenic’ route that I took to one of my favourite local breweries, Dageraad, to meet some friends. The brewery is about 15km from my home if I take a direct route, but this wasn’t very direct.
One of the purposes of this ride was to trace along some of my favourite semi-urban natural areas and see how the early autumn colour was coming along. Late September around here means the show has begun, though is still a few weeks from peak foliage.
Above is a small conservation area surrounded by commercial buildings in Burnaby just west of Deer Lake, which is featured in the left two images below.
From there I wiggled over to the Cariboo Heights conservation area which is one of the most underrated gems of Burnaby. It is a beautiful and quiet forested area that as I understand, runs the risk of being developed. I sure hope not. It’s one of my favourite places.
Now that I know there’s a website and a volunteer org for this unprotected forest, I might just have to get involved. As it is, I try to do my part by maintaining these trails, having brought my folding saw and cleared a few trees downed over the path.
The above images show a curated beauty, but worth noting there is also a fair share of pushing and the odd staircase. Definitely worthwhile though. The route crosses Cariboo Rd (yes, spelled correctly) onto an old rail bed (active from 1911 until 1953) that connects to New West.
Exiting the forest, it was not long before I was at Dageraad with a lovely slow-poured Belgian ale in hand.
From there I rode with the pack of pals back to town, with a stop on the pedestrian bridge below to share a smoked lager that a buddy had brought.
Most people think of the Three Stooges when they hear the name Stooge Cycles, I imagine. Well, there must be something to it, because I have now had three Stooges and feel like I’m where I need to be. My first was the Speedbomb – I was enamoured by the blue-green colour in particular, but the geometry was a close match to the Esker Japhy it was replacing despite being a one-size-fits-all model.
What I didn’t appreciate was that hardtail geometry and rigid MTB geometry should be different – the rigid should be shorter so you can get over the rear wheel more readily. So I made my way to a Scrambler, which came in two sizes, the smaller of which being where I needed to be in terms of top tube length. In between these two I had a Tracker for a period of time, which I’d got in a trade deal as a stop-gap solution until the Scrambler became available.
I received the frame on Aug 26, 2024. I built it up over the next few days and my very first ride on it was Sept 2, 2024 with my friends Taylor and Cat – on a rather epic ride from home to the summit of Grouse Mountain via Fromme. It was a 1000m climb and the ride was over 50km door to door. A pretty massive shake-down ride!
The parts spec was all pretty much carry-over from my previous Stooge, which was carry-over from my Esker Japhy. The only change I needed to make was down-sizing my rear tire from a 2.6 to a 2.4 due to the frame clearance. I ran a WTB Macro, a fast XC tire, which paired nicely with the more aggressive Teravail Kessel to balance grip and speed.
As soon as the frame had arrived, I measured it up for a custom HMPL frame bag in waxed canvas. It took a few weeks to be ready, during which I used my little Lilac frame bag seen above for a few rides. The moment it was ready I bee-lined it to HMPL HQ and fitted it to the frame. I took the bike on a social ride around town shortly after and it was a blast, even though it was a pavement ride.
About six months later, in Jan/Feb of 2025, I had the White Industries hubs re-laced to 27.5″ Dually rims because Andy of Stooge was pretty clear that his preference was 27.5+ for the Scrambler. And I trusted his vision. I started my 27.5+ journey with Surly Dirt Wizard 3″ tires which I bought second-hand for a bargain.
The DW’s were perfect in the snow, but once the snow thawed I realized how incredibly slow they were on anything except mud and snow. My pal Taylor hooked me up with a variety of 27.5+ tires including WTB Rangers and Bridgers. As of Oct 2025, I am running a Bridger up front and a Ranger out back, both of the 3″ variety, and have been since spring – it’s a good setup for this bike.
In Sept 2025, I finally took the Stooge on a camping trip. I had hoped to do a ~330km rugged bikepacking route around the southern half of Vancouver Island this year, but that plan never quite came together – a goal for 2026 now.
More than ten years ago, a Slack group was formed by an acquaintance for local craft beer geeks to discuss the growing local craft beer scene. The group grew to about 100 members relatively quickly, but stopped growing many years ago now, and the slack evolved into a group of friends. As this happened, channels for hobbies and other non-beer topics started to proliferate.
One of the more popular interests was cycling, and our “beer” slack now has multiple bike-related channels. One of them is specifically about bike camping. It was here that a Gabriola trip was hatched last year in mid September by LA. I didn’t go. The first night was solo for LA, and it poured rain heavily all day, all evening, and all night. Thankfully she was equipped with two tarps, but nonetheless it was undoubtedly a challenging time.
This year the weather was looking much better, with rain forecasted for one morning but otherwise sunny, warm but not hot; just perfect. Well – that was the forecast. More on that later.
Some folks rolled out on Friday, but me and two others rolled out as the Saturday crew. We all stayed until Monday. The weather was perfect. I was rolling around 8am, and we caught the late morning ferry from Horseshoe Bay to Nanaimo. From there it was a few km along the water to catch the small boat to Gabriola, a quick ferry that runs regularly enough to feel like a water taxi.
This was also the first time I’ve gone camping on the Stooge after a year of ownership. Bike-packing was front of mind when I bought the bike, so this felt overdue – even though it was a trip that really did not require such a rugged setup.
The reason I took the Stooge though is that Gabriola has an impressive trail network for a small island, including a double black rated trail! I wasted no time making my way to this trail after dropping off my gear at camp. It was steep, but that was it – no big features, no gnarly rock rolls, nothing to earn such a rating. Obviously a gulf island double black is not the same as a whistler double black. Probably for the best, as I don’t take the same chances I used to.
After the quick loss of elevation riding said trail, dubbed ‘Jack’s Dropper’, we followed a local’s advice about a less known beach on the east side of the island, shown below. It was indeed a good spot.
We hastened back towards camp after a snack on the beach to join the rest of the group at Malaspina Galleries. Despite the name, there is no artwork on display; but the beauty of the natural world is on full display with worn away sandstone creating a natural 3/4 tunnel like a cresting wave. We hung out here for the last hour of warm sun with beer and snacks at our sides. I even stuck my phone in the water for some underwater photos. There were tons of starfish!
It was a beauty day, but the clouds were starting to coalesce and rain was expected by the morning, so we set up our tarps to protect our gear and provide a sheltered spot to hang out.
It was a pleasant evening and our communal camp area was pretty dialed. The campsite is adjacent to a narrow inlet (below, center) that makes for a lovely spot to relax too.
Evening activities included review of our bingo cards (shout out to Graham for making them), drinking beer, and conversation over the propane fire (as the fire ban was still in effect).
The rain started around 10pm as a light sprinkle, and became a light but steady rain throughout the night. The sound of rain on my tent was both relaxing and sleep-preventing. Credit to my modest MEC Spark 1 tent, it kept dry inside except for a small bit by the fly which was probably my fault.
The rain was pretty light when I got up around 8am, and tapered off over the next hour allowing us to explore our surroundings without getting wet while drinking coffee and having breakfast.
I took this opportunity to photograph the area as well, as noted above and below. I haven’t been to a gulf island that isn’t beautiful yet, but Gabriola has a unique charm. Especially the water-worn sandstone along the shoreline.
As we took in the views at the shoreline, a wall of grey could be seen moving towards us looking menacing. I knew there was significant precipitation in that air, and we made our way back to camp without wasting time. Within moments, the rain began and steadily increased in intensity. At this point it was perhaps 11:30am. The wind also picked up, and at its peak it was a proper rainstorm. This was also precisely when our friend Dave arrived on his fender-less two speed bike from the mainland, drenched despite only 700m of travel from the ferry to the campsite.
Once the skies let up, we wasted no time getting out on our bikes as it was already after 1pm and the grocery and liquor stores close relatively early on the island.
While it was my first time on Gabriola, most of my company had explored these trails before. As such, I went along for the ride, following suggestions and recommendations. There was no losing – all the trails were really beautiful. Generally not technical, save the odd root, but they were narrow and immersive.
And they were seemingly everywhere. Gabriola is unique among the southern Gulf Islands in this regard, having a network of trails that are rather unparalleled. A dog walker’s paradise, this island.
By late afternoon, the rain a few hours prior was a distant memory with blue skies and surprisingly dry terrain. We laid in the field above and remained entirely dry.
After some provisions at the store we headed back to camp for more time in front of the propane fire pit, accompanied with an assortment of special beers brought by Dave and Ashley. Managing to not get too carried away with the booze, we were generally all in bed by 11pm.
The next morning was a travel day towards home, but with the extremely regular sailings off the island we were able to enjoy coffee and nature at our own pace in the morning.
After a lovely hour or so of walking around at low tide and marvelling at the eroded rocks, I packed up camp unhurriedly. As previously noted this was my first time bikepacking on the Stooge, but it was also my first time using the Buckhorn panniers and this bag arrangement in general. I was surprised by the capacity, owing in no small part to the tent being mounted atop the rear rack. Despite packing the tarp, my bulky cooking and coffee kit, and a few beers – I still had enough room to stuff a few other items in if needed.
The ride back was pleasant and uneventful. I took the higher, hillier, but quieter route from the ferry to West Vancouver along with Graham, Dave, and LA – and linked back up with Rob and Karen at a West Van park where we enjoyed one last beer of the trip and some final relaxing before returning to normal life.
Oh, but one of Gabriola’s well-fed spiders managed to hitch a ride in my pannier. I moved him to the patio, and a day later he rode back into our apartment on a dog mat I had put outside. I haven’t seen him since; I hope he’s OK but I also hope he’s done with me.
Attendees: Rob, Karen, LA, Ashley, Graham, Dave, and myself.
Booked in haste as soon as reservations opened this past spring, I had a site at Shingle Bay campground alongside a handful of friends for August 22 – 24. Shingle Bay is a secluded campground along a particularly beautiful bit of coastline, accessible only by foot or bike, and with a minimum of services: no water, just a single pit toilet.
I had never been to Shingle Bay, though I’d been on Pender before. It reminded me a lot of Narvaez Bay on Saturna with its beauty and seclusion.
It was also the first ride on my newly installed Continental Terra Trail tires, which I’d bought a year ago but was patiently waiting for my Ultradynamico treads to die.
I rode from home to the ferry, about 54km distance, with a friend and her e-cargo bike and two small kids. The cargo bike doesn’t fit on or in either their car nor public transit options, so ride it was. It’s a big of a slog – across town, over a couple bridges, then across an expansive section of farmland to finally reach Tsawwassen ferry terminal.
Once on Pender, the campsite is only 6km from the ferry, but this distance includes a few punchy climbing sections. I raced to the beer store first, then made my way to camp. After setting up my tent I realized my rear tire had gone flat; a slow leak on the inaugural ride on these tires!
The image below hopefully captures the beauty of this campground. It’s a small clearing filled with apple trees, on a small bay where the remainder of nearby coastline is cliffside. It’s a bit of a marvel.
As with many gulf islands, deer were plentiful and friendly. Whatever we were up to, you could count on them to be on the peripheral. Some gulf islands also have a lot of raccoons, but I didn’t see any here.
We enjoyed a wonderful sunset and a starry night aided by the lack of moon.
The next day I did two of my favourite camp morning activities: slow coffee while watching the tide slowly move, and a low-tide wander. I also fixed the flat tire, which I hope to not make a tradition of.
We lucked out that the annual Pender fair was happening on our only full day on the island, so once the morning rituals were complete, we headed into “town” for the festivities. The event started with a low budget but high enthusiasm parade, followed by fairgrounds full of display fruit and local interests of all sorts. I had a volunteer-grilled hamburger and spent some time in the beer garden, where beer from the nearest brewery was pouring – which was from Sidney, just on the other side of the ferry to Vancouver Island.
They also had some animals – chickens, goats, sheep, horses – including a wee lad reminiscent of Lil’ Sebastian.
Once we had befriended enough farm animals, we headed out from the fair and a few kilometres away to Twin Island Cider, which I would posit is the best cider in BC. Pender Island has a rich history of apple trees all over the island, and many of them contribute to the traditionally made cider at Twin Island. It was stinkin’ hot, and cider was exactly what we needed.
We made our way back to camp in the late afternoon, where lazing along the beach and wandering the coastline was the remaining day’s plans.
The evening brought a break in the sweaty temps as well as another beautiful sunset. There is something very special about a gulf island sunset, and Shingle Bay rivals the best in this regard, in company with Descanso Bay on Galiano.
The third day was the trek back home, but we had plenty of time before the ferry to check out some beaches along the way and spend some time with beers in the courtyard of the only shopping ‘mall’ on the island.
We didn’t arrive back in Tsawwassen until after 6pm, so it was dark by the time I was in the final 10km push to home. On the other hand, this was great for avoiding the worst of the August heat.
I’m not sure if this was the first bikepacking trip I did, but it was certainly one of the earliest examples. I had bought a Salsa Vaya the year before, and had completed the Ride to Conquer Cancer from Vancouver to Seattle on it about two months prior. I had transitioned from primarily riding fixies and mountain bikes to taking a sudden and unexpected interest in touring bikes.
At this time my partner Aimée and I had a sheltie, Esme, who was about 11 years old at this time. Since Aimée was much less into riding hills and longer distances than I, I carried much of our gear as well as the dog trailer. My setup was therefore quite the truckload.
To make the trip more accessible, we drove to and parked at the long term lot by the ferry. In order to transport all the bikes, I swapped my Golf with my dad’s Tacoma for the weekend. My Golf was just a few months old at this point, my first new car. My dad hit a bear with it during the two days he had it. Thankfully, the damage was largely cosmetic. The bear ran off after the event, hopefully their injuries weren’t too severe.
The setups! My Vaya fully truck’d out, Aimee and Erin’s matching Linus bikes at right.
I don’t have any photos of the rest of the ride out, it seems, but that’s probably for the best. The ride is about 25km, and I had never done it before this trip. Knowing my partner Aimée had limited endurance, I studied the route’s elevation carefully. I knew it had some hills, but most of the route was below 100m elevation, so how bad could it be?
Turns out, quite bad. The rolling hills are pretty steep and never-ending. But what made matters much worse is that I missed an in-land turn, and we ended up descending down to sea level on a dead end road. Tears were shed and very few words were spoken as we climbed back out of that situation, as everyone was already exhausted.
Thankfully, Ruckle campground delivered vibes that quickly reset everyones moods. I’ve been many times since, but this was my first Ruckle experience.
This was also Esme’s first camping experience, and she loved it. Exploring the scents along the ocean’s edge was her favourite part.
It was hot, which also contributed to the toughness of the ride out, but the ocean provided wonderful respite.
Esme meets a starfish. She knew it was a living creature, but she could not figure out its deal.
We made fires and did all the camp stuff.
Note Esme on the bench, tired out after such an adventurous day.
On the ride back, we took full advantage of both farm stands and lakes that we passed along the way. Best way to beat the heat!
A long-ago ride that I’m writing up many years later, but since it was such a wonderful experience, I remember it well. It was the first camping trip on my Surly LHT, which replaced a Salsa Vaya. In retrospect, I should have kept the Salsa and went 650B for more tire clearance, but I hadn’t considered that at the time.
We camped at the private campground by Seal Beach Cottage, and the first night we learned that the name is appropriate, as seals kept us up half the night with their noisy shenanigans. The campground is lovely though, with a short hike into secluded camp sites in the trees.
We had a day to explore the island, checking out the lighthouse and generally enjoying the slow pace of the gulf islands.
We also hiked up to the high point of the island during an unexpected rainy morning. Mount Parke offers a rather stunning cliffside after a fairly technical trail ascent. The bikes did not come with.
Erin did an excellent job curating vegan camp food. I become so utilitarian when it comes to food, but appreciate better options.
We checked out the quaint museum as well as the surprisingly well-stocked bookstore.
Farmers markets are a gulf island specialty, and Mayne’s is especially good. Being from the city, leaving a bike unlocked was too foreign for me so I locked the back wheel – but most others simply leaned their bike somewhere and went in.
I’m writing this over a decade later, so the details are a little more sparse, but this trip remains a core memory burned into my soul. It remains the most beautiful terrain I have ever experienced. It’s also the only time I’ve seen grizzlies that weren’t separated from me by a fence.
I went with my friend Nick, just two of us, though we’d hoped another friend or two would join. We drove up in my Golf, driving north to Lillooet then west to reach the Chilcotin mountain range. It’s a long drive, so we drove up the day before and stayed in Tyax lodge. This also afforded us a lovely dinner, as well as a filling breakfast before we set off on our bikes the next morning.
Tyax Lodge
Day one was riding from the lodge to Spruce Lake, where we had booked the glamping tents operated by Tyax. We skipped the option to be flown into the far end of the trail network, but instead put that money towards accommodations for the two nights we’d be in the backcountry. It was very worth it, but more on that later.
The first ten kilometres or so were on FSR and reasonably flat. This was Gun Creek Rd.
After that, the FSR ends and Lower Gun Creek trail begins. It’s 12 km long, following Gun Creek as you can imagine, so the climb is consistent but not too steep.
As we got closer to Spruce Lake though, we had to turn off the creek and head up Gun Meadows trail, which ascends 300m in about 3 km. Neither of us were in endurance shape, so this was a big push late in a good day’s ride.
The views were welcome though, the first real views of the trip so far. I was already in awe, and we weren’t even really up there yet. We started the day at 1000m, and after about 32km of riding we ended the day at just under 1600m.
We rolled into Spruce Lake tired and hungry. We found the campground immediately but that’s not where we were staying. Having not seen anyone all day, we felt the remoteness.
We also couldn’t find our camp, and began to get stressed out since it was quite late in the day at this point. We started calling out, finally locating camp just around the lake a bit further than we expected.
We were greeted by our host, who would be making us dinner, who had fresh watermelon and assorted fruit for us. It was absolutely glorious, and the $200 cost of this camp night already felt worthwhile. There was even an option to have beer brought to camp for you, which we happily paid the premium for. They were cooling in the creek when we arrived.
We spent the remaining daylight exploring our surroundings a little bit before settling in for dinner.
Dinner was cooked and served in a dining tent a little ways from our sleeping quarters for obvious bear-related reasons. I believe it was a chicken curry, if memory serves, and tasted great after the day’s ride.
Our sleeping tent shown below. I suppose that fabric would not stop a grizzly bear in the slightest, but it gave us comfort somehow anyway.
The next day involved climbing up to Windy Pass, the high point of our route. The trail we took was aptly named High Trail, climbing 600m over only a few km, along a mostly treed flank of what turned out to be a gorgeous valley once viewed from near the top of the trail. Most of this climb was spent pushing our bikes as the grade was unrelentingly steep.
A grouse that gave us a good scare
Below was down near the bottom of this valley; the second photo viewed from after a bunch of climbing. Note how much of the mountains in the background opened up.
The above photo was taken just before we would climb out of the trees, and up to the saddle shaped pass.
It was also taken just before we noticed grizzlies on the hillside across from us – at first we saw one, then realized there were a whole crew of grizzlies on the open hillside, hunting marmots.
They were across the valley from us, roughly 500 feet away, which felt somewhat comfortable – until I saw one run, and realized they were in fact only seconds away from us. As a result, we kept moving pretty quick until over the pass, where we felt a comfortable distance had been put between us. We had bear bangers and bear spray at the ready.
Up top, we were truly above the tree line, and it felt like another world.
It was a shame that we didn’t feel comfortable lingering on the pass, because the panoramic views from above the tree line were perhaps the best of the trip. It was actually going to be our lunch spot, until we felt like we could also be lunch. We stopped long enough to get photos of us on top of the pass (below), then kept going.
The climb to this pass was about 4km, mostly hiking, and the descent was about 2km into the flatter meadow area. The descent was awesome, and if we hadn’t stopped for photos, it would have been over in a flash.
Above, the final stretch of riding on the moon before returning to more substantial vegetation. The photo below is taken along the trees in the distance of the above photo, with the pass we had just crossed over in the distance.
At the bottom of the hill, the valley opened up into a beautiful sub-alpine meadow. Below is the split between High Trail to the right, and Taylor Creek to the left.
Owing in large part to how little time we spent up on the pass due to bear activity, we found ourselves on the final couple km of our day’s ride barely after noon, so we took our time and soaked in the beauty of the meadows.
We reached Eldorado cabin in the early afternoon, where a beer each awaited us. Our options were limited to what was available at the Lillooet liquor store, but I was completely happy with a decent pale ale given the circumstances!
Eldorado cabin is a popular backcountry ski spot in the winter, but an equally great bike or hike spot in the summer.
Day three was riding from the cabin back down to Tyax, which meant we only had one small climb to start and then it was all downhill, and we didn’t have a ton of ground to cover either. We descended Lick Creek trail.
The final descending became a little more steep and loose, adding a bit of spice after a couple days of pretty non-technical riding. The views of the lakes were excellent.
Back at Tyaughten Lake, we enjoyed a relaxing afternoon with early dinner at the lodge.
In the end, it was about 65 km over three days with somewhere around 2500m total elevation. Neither of us were riding more than two hour MTB rides on the local hills at the time, so we played it pretty safe on route ambition. The first day was plenty, but the second and third days we could have easily combined into one. I’m bummed that I was not using Strava/etc at the time, so I don’t have that data to aid with reminiscing, but the memories (and these photos) are plenty.
I hope to go back in 2026, this time aboard my Stooge Scrambler. My endurance and general fitness are well above my 2013 level, so I think I could pedal my way to Lorna and back with the same time frame.
Like most cyclists who like to go camping by bike in southwestern BC, the southern gulf islands hold a special place in my heart. I try to get out to one of the islands two or three times a year, which is the most I can seem to manage in balance with the rest of life.
Saturna was the only island with a campground that I had not yet visited. It’s one of the southernmost islands along with South Pender, bordering US waters. It is even less populated than most other gulf islands and has particularly few amenities. Narvaez campsite has no fresh water, and the only general store is at the opposite end of the island from the campground.
I knew that Saturna was several friends’ favourite island, so I was eager to see why. Knowing it was particularly untouched, I decided to go on a weekday for an even quieter experience. I headed off towards the Tsawwassen ferry at 8am on Thursday; a 50km ride out of the city and along farm roads. I grabbed a burger on the ferry to fuel the rest of my journey.
My friend LA was joining on Friday, giving me an evening to myself followed by the better part of a day of exploring together. Well, a big chunk of Thursday was spent waiting: I arrived at the Tsawwassen ferry terminal at 11am, and I didn’t land on Saturna until 4:35pm. So, five and a half hours of either waiting for the ferry or travelling on the ferry. But it was well worth it!
The lone general store closed at 5pm and was located up a steep hill from the ferry, so getting there quickly was my top priority once on the island. All I bought was a four-pack of IPA; that’s all I needed.
Other than the campground, which is very small itself, Narvaez Bay Rd only accesses a handful of rural properties. As such, it is a wonderfully quiet road, and I only saw a single car over the course of 45 minutes. It’s pothole-filled and minimally paved, but keeping the speed down is necessary due to the abundance of deer who love to jump out of the woods at the most inopportune times. The final stretch towards the campsite is on a dirt path with no vehicle access, bench cut into a very steep slope down to the bay.
Arriving at my campsite, I was pleased with its position in the small campground: well spaced from other sites, with a nice view of the small north bay. Shaded as well! The only other site that wasn’t too far from mine was booked by LA. For the record, this is campsite 4. There are only 7 in total, but an overflow area is provided for those who don’t have a reservation.
I did a quick walk around the campsite after pitching the tent while I had some “dinner” (just a variety of snacks). It was around 6pm at this point, but I wanted to ride up to the southern ridge before dark; only about 5km away but almost 250m in elevation.
The road towards the ridge was dirt double track that ascended rather rudely from the main road before levelling off into a really pleasant ride.
I took the photo of my bike, below, and checked the map to see how much further it was. What I found was that I was totally off-course – I was supposed to be on the other side of a very deep ravine to my right. I was surprised, as I had not seen any sort of trail off this road.
Backtracking and keeping a close eye on Trailforks for where the trail branched off, I realized why I hadn’t seen it: there was hardly a trace of a trail, just a grassy meadow. After a bit, it did develop into a more distinct trail, and shortly after that the ocean views started to open up as I reached the ridge.
The climbing continued, as the trees became more sparse and the view continued to improve.
A short while later I was surprised by a small herd of goats, the goats also surprised by me. The adult males were being protective of their young, sending snorts and little foot stomps my way, so I made sure to give lots of space and spoke nicely to them. I stayed back, thinking this might be my turnaround point, but they shuffled off and allowed me to continue.
I made my way slowly behind them, hoping to find a sufficiently open view of the ocean to sit and have my beer. I settled in the spot below, with a dozen or so goats on the ridge in the distance. One stayed back and watched me for some time, clearly unimpressed.
I figured my time with the goats was over, but as I drank my beer, they started to slip back over the ridge and head towards me en masse. These are feral goats, and I figured that was my cue to leave.
The descent out went by quickly, and soon I was back in the camp area. I checked out the bay on the opposite side of camp, where I watched a pair of otters play for a while from up on the rocky ledge.
Back at camp, I spent the rest of the daylight hours observing and admiring the nature around me. I hadn’t brought my monoculars but I will next time; while I’m no bird expert there is such a variety here to admire. From hummingbirds to bald eagles, and everything in between. I couldn’t positively identify most of them, but at least five or six different songbirds, as well as a resident raven or two.
I climbed into bed before dark so I could get a head-start on what was bound to be a sub-par night of sleep. Lots of deer activity throughout the night kept me awake at times, but by 7am I felt rested enough to start my day.
Given the limited capacity of my two-bag setup as well as the lack of water at camp, I chose to leave my cook kit at home and brought only ready-to-eat items. For my morning caffeine, I brought a can of cold brew coffee for each morning. I enjoyed my coffee with a stroll down the small peninsula, exploring the mossy coastal woods.
After my coffee and some food, I headed out to walk the Monarch Head trail, a ~3km hike to a nearby viewpoint. The walk was in meadow-like forest, and within the first five minutes I encountered two deer who were very curious about me. In fact, they started to approach me after I’d stopped, so I gently shooed them away.
The viewpoint was nice, with sweeping ocean views of the San Juan islands on the other side of the border. I slipped around the fence to get a little closer, but not too close, to the cliffs which plummeted nearly to sea level.
I forest bathed my way back out, returning to my bike locked at a rack near the trail head. At this point I had explored the entirety of the local trail network and it was barely past 9am!
With more than two hours to go until LA arrived in camp, I walked the coastline and did more observation. I found a lot of blooming native succulents along the threshold between dirt and rock along the water:
I fashioned a primitive bench from a piece of driftwood off the water edge, and walked among the lush salal bushes.
LA rolled into camp shortly before noon after some mechanical issues along the way. After setting up and having some food and a beer, we hatched a ride plan based on the options I had been mulling over during the morning.
The one thing I knew I wanted to do today was check out Mount Warburton’s peak; at 400m it is only exceeded by Salt Spring’s peaks in the southern gulf island range. More to the point, I wanted to traverse the ridgeline trail that I had visited yesterday, which followed the cliffside for about 3km.
The climb up involved a lot of pushing, as the grade was rarely below 12%, and sometimes over 20%. Our legs were tired already from the prior day’s travels which didn’t help either.
We were greeted with howling winds as we reached the open peak, in addition to a heck of a view.
I scanned around for the start of the ridge line trail and was somewhat horrified to see how exposed it was along these high cliffs. It’s not very evident from the photos, but the slope towards the cliffs is steep enough that it would be hard to stop if you were to take a tumble. To make matters worse, the trail surface was a slippery combination of marble like rocks over hard pack earth.
On the flip side, the views were non-stop breathtaking – not just the ocean views, but the plains and coves below gave a sense of just how high up we were.
With abundant caution we made our way along, riding sections that weren’t too high consequence, and walking as needed.
The photo below is as close as I was able to get at conveying the exposure of this line through photos. This was a goat path, and goats are notorious daredevils when it comes to cliff sides. It was not a single sheer drop, but several vertical cliffs punctuated by steeply sloping fields of grass which only the goats can safely traverse.
The outlier trees which grew on the open plains were dramatically wind swept, with countless broken limbs overcome over the years.
As we approached the end of the ridge I was starting to worry we wouldn’t see the goats, but they were there to greet us at the same spot I had seen them yesterday. Once again they seemed quite unsure about us, so we walked off-trail to give them space as we passed.
We descended to the camp and I calmed my height-fearing nerves with a beer. I didn’t take any further photos for the night as I had underestimated my battery needs for the trip and needed to conserve. In fact, my battery would have been dead by this point if it weren’t for LA’s preparedness with extra battery packs.
The next morning I was up before 7am again, as I needed to leave camp around 8 to make the ferry. Re-packing the bike at the end of a trip is always more chaotic than the initial packing, so despite having less food to carry, the bags seemed fuller. This was also a pack-in, pack-out campsite so a small bag of garbage was tucked under the flap of my huge saddle bag.
I left with enough time to appreciate the sights along the way and arrive before anyone else for the ferry. The trip back involved two ferries with a short layover on Mayne.
Once back on mainland, I opted for the long gravel path along Boundary Bay and up along Burns Bog; while this added some distance to the trip it also kept me away from traffic. It was a clear, sunny day with temperatures in the low 20’s Celsius, so I was happy to spend extra time in the saddle.
I spent a few miles riding with three old guard randonneurs, easily in their 70s, who kept a solid pace even on the trails despite being on road bikes. I detoured once again around New Westminster to get a smash burger and hefeweizen at Steel & Oak, and tried unsuccessfully to catch the tail end of a bike event, Rileys Rips, that I had to miss today.
It was an extremely rewarding trip with no mechanicals, good health, and even better spirits. The three day tally on riding was 168km and 2010m of elevation, more than half of which was off-pavement.
I see why Saturna is a favourite among my friends, and I’m inclined to agree. The roads are extremely quiet, the humans are few and far between, but the goats and the deer are plentiful. The views along the south ridge are the best I’ve experienced in the gulf islands. Next time I’d like to explore the north side to the lighthouse, and perhaps visit the winery despite the challenging road to reach it.
Post-Summary Fit Check: Bombadil
While it’s changed a handful of times since I bought it in 2020, the Bombadil is currently configured with drop bars, fenders, and a 3×9 drivetrain. This makes it my ‘gravel bike’ as well as my touring bike with the Nitto R-10 rack mounted up to support the large Fab’s chest on the back paired to a small Fab’s chest on the bars.
I don’t know how many litres the two bags combined offer, but for my gear it does prove to be a challenging space constraint. In the big rear bag I fit my entire sleep system in the main compartment: MEC Spark 1-person tent, inflatable sleeping pad, Hammock Gear 30F quilt, and MEC camp pillow. I also fit my puffy jacket in there. In the side pockets were a Nalgene on one side due to the lack of water at camp, and the other side carries my toiletries and sundry camp items.
The smaller front Fabs housed my food collection, comprehensive tool roll, and all my clothing. The side pockets housed my small bike lock, sunscreen, battery brick, and stuff like that. I brought very little extra clothing; a pair of pants, an extra tee, and socks and undies. I didn’t even bring a second outer layer beyond what I wore out of the house. There was no cooking stuff in my kit at all, due to both space and water constraints. I would need to add some storage capacity to bring that stuff, such as my Randi Jo Big MUTs (need some sort of rack for them to run on this bike, though).
Lessons Learned
Once again I underestimated how much battery I would use on the trip, and I learned the hard way that my new phone’s battery is much larger than my old phone, and as such, my 10,000 mAh brick is not enough. I’ll purchase a 20k+ model before my next trip.
I brought too much food again, and made some questionable hasty decisions like throwing an entire jar of ‘Wow Butter’ in my bag. This would take me a week to get through easily! Partly this was being unfamiliar with what would be available on-island, so next time I can plan accordingly.
Otherwise everything performed well and I didn’t have too much stuff that I didn’t use, or would risk leaving at home.
