Category: General

With the bike park coming to Grouse next year, access to ride all the way to the tourist area, with grizzly bears and beer on tap, was about to disappear. So we made one last go at it.

It was also the very first ride on my new Stooge Scrambler, which replaced the Tracker I had previously. All parts swapped over save the rear tire, since my original was too large for the new frame.

The ascent started clear and sunny, but at around 500m elevation we entered the fog. The fog was especially dynamic today, moving and changing at such a rate that you could watch it come and go in real time.

We broke through the fog a little while later, but we weren’t certain whether we’d get views due to the layer of fog between us and the city.

The switchbacks near the top are out in the open and the views are beaiutiful. I’ll miss being able to reach this by my own power.

Beer at the top is such a good motivator, as well. Checking out the bike park trails under development –

And while mixed feelings about the situation, it’s amazing to see a grizzly up close like this. We got a good show this time.

And a glamour shot of the bike with the iconic Grouse view of the city:

It’s not a great name. The reason it has this name is because it’s at the base of what is called suicide bluff, a predictably steep and treacherous bit of topography along the west side of Seymour mountain. Nevertheless, I had this far-fetched idea to try to connect from the end of Suicide Branch, a dead-end spur deep in the Lower Seymour valley, through the woods along the east side of the Seymour river to Bottletop trail, four kilometres south. I wanted to call this “trail” Suicide Dream based on one of my favourite songs.

I knew it was a long shot, but I enlisted a friend who is always up for a silly ride Rob. I took my Wombat, with its single 2:1 gear.

I had been down Suicide Branch twice before. As mentioned it doesn’t go anywhere, and it’s well out of the way. The first time I felt pretty spooked by the fact that virtually no one goes down the trail, thinking about cougars and bears, and chose to turn around after maybe 600 or 800 metres. The second time I made it further, only to have a branch get caught in my front wheel/fender and throw me over the bars at speed. Thankfully I was not terribly injured and able to ride out, but it was a sobering experience – no cell service, nobody likely to find me for days. I was not willing to go back down this trail alone. The name should have made me come to my senses earlier.

It was a beautiful early October day, a really special time to be in the north shore mountains. Big leaf maples were bright orange and dropping leaves, and all the greens were more saturated than they are in late summer. The ride out to Suicide Branch was Fisherman’s trail, which is a beautiful double track trail that hugs the west edge of the Seymour river.

Suicide branch itself is only a little over 2km long, though it certainly feels longer. It rather abruptly ends with a small clearing, which began the next chapter of our little adventure for the day. We poked around looking for signs of a trail, but didn’t see much. We opted to carry our bikes in about 10 or 20 yards to stash them and in the process found signs of a low-traffic, but existent, trail. Turns out the trailhead was intentionally obscured by a pile of deadfall.

We started on along the “trail” – it was barely visible on the forest floor but was particularly well marked – we’d never seen so much flagging in fact. We hypothesized about its use by rescue teams, especially during winter, or perhaps it’s a research plot. We found a metal tag along the way with some coordinate information that led us to believe the latter was a strong probability.

We had become so distracted by trying to understand the purpose of the trail, and enamoured by the beauty of the forest, that I failed to realize that my idea of a trail that one could at least walk their bike on was rather impossible. If you look at this region on a topographical map it doesn’t look so bad, but the maps gloss over gullies that are as treacherous as they are common.

Damn if the forest isn’t beautiful up here, though.

We pressed on for a while, but the actual distance we covered was laughably small. We covered about 200m in 40 minutes. Largely this was because we were examining and discussing every detail along the way, but that 200m was effort beyond the numbers.

Back to the bikes, we started to work our way back out. Before this ride I had noted that there was a trail on Open Street Maps called Suicide Jimmy that traced all the way from the ski area, at 1000m elevation, down to Suicide Branch some 800m below. Knowing the terrain I was extremely curious about this unofficial and largely unknown trail. We kept an eye out for the trail exit as we made our way back.

Paying careful attention to the map, we passed where it was supposed to be despite our best efforts to spot the trail – it was well obscured, yet once we got into the woods a little bit the trail was very apparent. I have to imagine it gets a lot more challenging further up where the terrain steepens significantly, but this section was beautifully loamy and rather chill.

Satisfied with our findings, we made our way back out to civilization. Not without the occasional stop to check out any potential trace of a side trail, which was consistently fruitless in terms of trail but fruitful in terms of cool mushrooms.

October is arguably the best month to be in the forests of the north shore. November is really good, too. There’s never a bad month out here, though.

I’ve written up previous experiences of this loop, but this day I rode a bike that I’ve only had a month that is extremely well suited to the terrain: the Susie Longbolts / Wolbis Slugstone, a “hillibike” by Rivendell. The name ‘hillibike’ is to signify its suitability for trail riding while distancing itself from today’s interpretation of a ‘mountain bike’ since it shares little in common with the modern concept.

The ride out was cool, damp but with little precipitation. Back in town it was a partly cloudy day without any rain in the forecast – but up this valley, the city forecast doesn’t really apply.

I took my time more than usual since I was alone, stopping to check out anything that caught my attention. I rode the full length of Fishermans trail along the Seymour river, which has had several washouts over the past couple years but is running very nice right now. While I didn’t stop for photos, there was a section that had clearly overrun with water during a recent storm event but remained rideable.

This marsh at mid valley, adjacent to the start of Spur 4, is a really special spot to spend time. I don’t know of any similar marsh in the region, and the views are obviously quite stunning.

Spur 4 is a gravel FSR that is not accessible by motorized vehicle, which is unusual around here and makes it quite special to ride. While a relatively popular gravel route among local cyclists, it is still very low traffic and you can go quite a while without seeing another human – if you see one at all.

I took the short detour up to Lost Lake, located partway along Spur 4, but the water level was so high I could barely get a glimpse of the lake. The logs piled up by the access are usually in marsh and can be traversed, but today they were floating and had separated.

Spur 4 ends with a loose gravel single track connector down over the Seymour river near the dam, which was roaring today, and then begins the Hatchery trail, the highlight of this valley for me.

Hatchery trail is an extremely well-maintained gravel path that winds through the most exotic rainforest of the valley, covered in otherworldly moss and lichen, with large trees and a creek that hosts fish spawning. As the name implies, the hatchery is what provides the impetus to put so much effort into a trail that is so far away from the nearest car access – about 12km!

There are many bridges along this relatively short trail, and each one is as new and robust as the one above, with an engraved placard noting the creek over which it passes. I am still blown away by the effort that goes into such a low traffic, out-of-the-way trail but I am very grateful.

Speaking of these bridges, I came across one that is new since I was last on this trail a few months ago, connecting to a smaller side trail over Rainbow creek. Though I saw no signage suggesting it’s no-bikes, the trail itself is so low-intervention on the land that I treaded very carefully. Featured along this side-quest was a 500 year old Sitka spruce.

I hadn’t seen anyone else in quite some time now, and spent plenty of time just in awe of the beauty and texture of the forest – even though I’ve been coming here regularly for years, I never get used to it. A light drizzle was only making the experience better; this forest feels most alive with rain and cool air.

Noting that I was a couple hours from home, the increasing precipitation was indication I should start making my way back as it was only about 4C. I had my trusty buckskin gloves on as well as some wool layers, but I wasn’t really prepared to get soaked.

Unfortunately, what happened immediately next was I got soaked! The rain turned to hail as it ramped up in intensity, and I began to regret my decision to wear lightweight pants with no long underwear as the thin fabric wrapped itself, soaking wet, against my increasing cold legs.

I took the Hydraulic creek connector down to the mid valley lookout, which features a covered gazebo I was very much looking forward to. Two fellas were sitting under it listening to music and drinking hot chocolate, having arrived before the storm and now were enjoying themselves waiting it out. I showed up haplessly soaked, though I was amused by the weather more than anything.

If I managed to get to cover before I was thoroughly soaked I’d have stayed there for a while, but instead I was concerned that lack of movement at this point would cause me to take on a chill I wouldn’t be able to shake so I pressed on after a few minutes of chatting. One of the guys was really impressed by the Susie; he rode an older mountain bike with a heavy duty pannier rack but took keen interest in every detail of the unusual rig I was aboard.

Not many photos were taken over the next hour because my hands were cold as a result of my gloves becoming saturated, and taking off my gloves was not appealing. As anticipated, the weather eased as I reached the mouth of the valley and by the time I was in my neighbourhood, it was downright pleasant out. I stopped a couple km from home and enjoyed the beer I had carried with me the whole trip – I was saving it for the gazebo, thinking I’d be relatively dry at that time. Turns out I should have drank it along the Hatchery trail, perhaps on that small dock on the small forest pond featured above.

July 13, 2024

My pops lives in Chemainus, a small town along the coast of Vancouver Island between Nanaimo and Victoria. I’ve ridden to his place before a couple times now via a combination of paved MUP and quiet roads with a few kilometres of highway shoulder. But I hoped to find a way to get there that reduced my interaction with cars as close to zero as possible, and perhaps inject a little more exploration and adventure into the route as well.

I spent some time on RidewithGPS, Strava heatmaps, and Google streetview to piece together a route that spent as much time off roads as possible, and when not possible, on the quietest roads around. I did not get any input from people who actually rode these trails and I knew the inherent risk there, but for ~50km I was willing to take some chances.

It started with the ride to Horseshoe bay to catch a ferry to the island, and for this I took the “high route” that I prefer over the more popular Marine Dr. It involves some steep hills and a bit of stairs and steep loose singletrack, but has negligible car traffic.

The first few kilometres once in Nanaimo were familiar, and also quite pleasant. A few short blocks on a side road from the ferry terminal places you onto a rail-grade MUP, and this led me directly to Bowen Park which was beautiful, quiet singletrack for a short while. I was sure I’d see signs saying these trails were no-bikes because they seemed too good to be true, but I never did.

I was having such wonderful luck riding a combination of quiet MUP paths and smooth single track that I nearly got out of Nanaimo without a hiccup. Thanks to a closed section due to active construction, I finally hit my first re-route. Even then though – it was an easy and short detour on a road with a bike “lane” so I can hardly complain.

I rode past some sports fields where everyone seemed to be, and then into Colliary Dam park. All of this on very pleasant paved path that is largely away from roads and in the forest. Absolutely lovely. At the end of the park, the path deposits you right onto the parkway trail, which continues the paved MUP alongside the highway but mostly into the trees enough that the road noise is not bothersome at all.

I should say, it’s been hot as heck this day. Mild as far as 2024 heat waves go, but certainly over 30C when humidex is factored in. I am not a fan of the heat, and this was pushing my limits for comfort – lots of water. I drank an entire bottle at a fountain in the park I’d recently passed through at this point and was carrying three. By the end of the day I had drank seven bottles of water.

I was plenty familiar with the Parkway trail and really enjoy it. I was chuffed with how well the route worked out from the ferry to exiting Nanaimo – I would not consider Nanaimo to be a very bike-friendly town, so managing to link together a route that had quite literally only a couple blocks of time spent on vehicle streets felt like a cheat code.

However, at the end of the parkway MUP I turned right instead of the left I was familiar with, and headed into the first section that I didn’t know what to expect from. It began by descending a rural street to a dead end where no trail was apparent until I was greeted by a large “Private Property: No Trespassing” sign affixed to a gate next to a rural house with old pickups strewn about the yard. Beside this gate was a small trail; clearly low traffic but very much a trail.

While the sign had my hackles up, the first stretch was really pleasant: the trail was well enough established, smooth, and followed a ridge line full of birds and beautiful forest. I saw no other humans, but this was to become standard for the rest of the day.

Things became a fair bit more difficult shortly after. I ended up on an old network of what I now understood were moto trails. Where is this? Well, if you look on Google maps it’s a swath of nothingness next to a marsh, but Trailforks showed me there was a network of something here. Other than a few steep, rutted-out climbs covered in marble-like pebbles that my Vessi sneakers were no match for, the trails were really quite fun. I did have a few spots that I genuinely was unsure if I could get both me and my bike physically up due to the lack of traction, though. A lot of energy and time were spent taking a step, sliding back down, and repeating over and over.

It felt good to be through that and onto some quiet country roads as I made my way to the Nanaimo River where the highway crosses it. I rode down the slope under the highway to watch all the folks diving into the river, or using the giant rope swing. I became quite invested in seeing through a young woman’s fear of jumping – friends yelling from the water, coming up to coach. Many others jumped in turn while she built up the courage. Unfortunately my beer was empty before she jumped and I never saw if it ended up happening.

From the river, I hopped onto the highway shoulder for all of 300 metres before exiting onto a really lovely trestle bridge that placed me on a quiet street. A few kilometres of side roads then took me to what was the biggest unknown of the route, both in terms of size and my confidence (or lack thereof) on whether it sent.

Fittingly, I was greeted by a No Entry sign at the start of this large stretch off pavement. At this point I was just south of Cassidy, and I had headed inland away from all roads that would connect to where I was going. But the gate was open, and in I went.

I was only a few kilometres from civilization but it sure didn’t feel like it. Nobody was around, that was for certain. I made my way down “West Bush Main” from near Cassidy towards Ladysmith, with Mount Hayes to my right. There was no vehicle access to these roads except for whatever mining or other activities were in the area, but it was obvious that bicycles do not typically travel this route. Dirt bikes most certainly did though. Welcome to small town Vancouver Island. The surface was very sandy at times, rocky and chunky hard pack other times. It was rarely smooth enough to relax.

It was only a handful of kilometres but felt long due to the heat and being alone without anyone around. Funny how being a little bit concerned about your life makes you feel more alive. While this was all double track or wider, I had wished for my Stooge and its huge, knobby tires. If I do this again, that’s what I’ll take.

West Bush Main, which I’m not sure I’d recommend, eventually spit me onto a smooth dirt road that apparently is part of Trans Canada Trail as I neared Ladysmith. It was a gentle descent too, so I was finally cruising at speed without fear, hooting and in high spirits.

I was quite perplexed when my GPS unit told me to take a hard right off this wonderful road when no junction was apparent. Oh. I see the path now, it’s a tiny, partially overgrown path up a steep embankment along the powerline cut. Wonderful.

That first ~50m of power line trail off the road took me about 30 minutes to climb. It was so steep and loose near the top I had to first climb up without my bike to make sure it was worth it, then remove the bags and take them up, then spent a stupid amount of time sliding around trying to get my bike up it. The loose-over-hard conditions were killing me today. Thankfully, that first 50m did prove to be the worst of it, and the power line trail became more gently rolling in topography as well as a little more trodden.

The heat was definitely getting to me at this point and I was having a pretty hard time – but I don’t think this stretch of trail is particularly difficult even though I was cursing it at the time. However the last major descent (right image, above) was so steep and loose – photo does no justice as usual – that I had to sit on my pannier rack, drag my feet while skidding both wheels to get down it. I couldn’t even walk the bike down it without falling constantly, but this proved to be a really useful way to descent it.

This last section was the Rotary club’s trail, and they had the grace to put a rest point in at a particularly scenic and shaded spot which I took full advantage of. Once I found myself out of the trail and into civilization, I immediately peeled into the grass and cracked a now-warm beer to celebrate surviving that.

While I sat there sipping my beer, an older gentleman slowly made his way up the hill in front of me pushing his e-bike. Turns out it ran out of juice, and this ~20% grade was no doubt plenty challenging to push up let alone ride, especially in the heat. He plunked himself down next to me and we spent about 20 minutes chatting about the trails in the area – he knew full well what I had gotten myself into, and he had ridden some of the same trails this day to my surprise.

The last ~8km or so were on Chemainus’ excellent rail trail that begins north of Saltair and is not well represented on Google, yet most certainly exists. See my Strava route below for full detail!

In February, a friend noticed that all three of the small cabins at Sooke River Campground, a campground I was entirely unfamiliar with, were available and for a very reasonable rate during an April weekend that they had available. Impulsively, I booked one while friends booked the other two. Given that April is typically a wet and cool month, the cabins would be a welcome respite from the potential weather. 

The route to Sooke was the exciting part: from the ferry, it is over 70km of almost exclusively bike path, made up of the Lochside Trail and Galloping Goose, and a significant portion of this is gravel path in the forest, all at rail-grade. It was truly magical to spend so much of the ride in nature and out of earshot from cars. 

I chose to ride my Bombadil which was currently set up with drop bars, with my dual Fab’s Chest bags (small front, large rear). This proves to be a little shy of volume for camping for me, but being able to leave the tent at home freed up the space I needed. The cabins are very rustic, with plywood sleeping surfaces and without any supplied dishes etc, so the tent and my stove setup were the only omissions from my full tent camping setup. 

We rode out as a group of six, stopping fairly regularly and generally not rushing. It took over six hours to make the 73km distance, but we arrived fresh and feeling great. It was hard not to feel energized when spending so much time in the forest, without major hills, and far away from the noise and danger of cars. The Lochside trail is nice, having some very beautiful sections and is mostly pretty well protected from vehicles.. but the Galloping Goose is the star. Absolutely stunning, mile after mile.

We reached our destination, the Sooke River Campground, and settled into our cute but very basic cabins. The remainder of the campground was basically large RV’s and trailers; not the kind of vibe that interested us, but our cabins faced away from the remainder of the campground and thus provided a more private setting.

When I say basic, I mean that we still had to bring our full sleeping kit minus a tent – the “beds” were plywood, which matched the rest of the decor within. I’m not complaining, though – all we needed was a roof over our heads where we could keep our stuff dry. In this respect, they were just right. When the intermittent showers showed up on the morning of our departure, the shelter of the cabins couldn’t have been more appreciated.

We stayed two nights, giving us a full day to explore our surroundings. We opted to continue up the Goose to Sooke Potholes. Trestle bridges, the ruins of a vacation hotel that never opened, and beautiful scenery were some of the hightlights, as well as lounging riverside for a beer.

Our ride back to the ferry was pleasantly long, and the monotonous nature of the gravel rail trail through the woods never became boring – in fact, I couldn’t even get used to the beauty.

This page is intended to offer some relevant insights to a rider who is about to ride the Burnabop XL route. Of course, conditions on the day of are going to vary widely. If it is raining or has been raining, expect mud in a variety of locations. I will try to note the most notorious spots below.

Starting Point

The route technically starts at the multi-storey tree fort hidden in Bates Park. If riding with pals, this is the best place to meet. An appropriately hard to find location for a route such as this.

For pre-ride washrooms, your best bet is to stop at Empire Field by PNE on the way to the start, or use the bushes at the start point. There are en-route washrooms at km 5 if you can wait.

Course Notes

Here are a list of things you may wish to know, by kilometre marker.

• km 2.8: Short push up a little trail which connects to the old road
• km 3.5: Take the left at the single track fork. Couple stairs where it reconnects with TCT
• km 5.1: Public washroom far side of the baseball field, other side of Hastings
• km 6.7: Cheeky singletrack is optional; can get very muddy in winter
• km 12.4: Worst climb of the day. No expectation to ride it!
• km 13.6: Option to ride down North Rd trail or just take Powerline trail
• km 16.5: You can go straight which narrows and goes thru a creek, but there is a trail to the left at the “cul de sac” which is better
• km 16.8: very easy to miss this trail
• km 21.2: commonly horses on the next couple km; horses are often scared of bikes so best to stop and talk to the rider so the horse knows you’re there
• km 26.0: going around the back of the sports fields is optional but very pleasant!
• km 29.0: If you’re hungry or cold, Timmie’s is just off-route as well as a neat East African spot called Safari Snack House
• km 29.5: Trail construction late 2023, stay left if it’s open
• km 30.5: There is a cheeky trail along the wall, parallel the street.
• km 31.9: At the bottom of the double track it’s always muddy and very slippery
• km 33.6: Watch out for a surprise staircase after a steep descent
• km 35.5: Hard-to-spot turn on a high speed descent. When you see a small pull-out, turn into it. The trail is about 10m further down.
• km 37.0: You can cross at the light or stay on the sidewalk on the near side of the street. Kinda awkward but short.
• km 44.1: There is a Wendy’s and a Donair spot just to rider’s right on 6th St, and poutine a block the other way (Mean Poutine)
• km 44.7: Good park washroom here
• km 54.8: Sketchy train track crossing. Be careful!!
• km 55.5: Timmie’s and McD’s are nearby if you’re bonking. You’re bonking.
• km 56.3: Don’t take the first left that is very enticing; take the second left which is stairs. Trust me, the first one is a siren song anyway.
• km 59.2: Waves coffee and also Chicko Chicken another 100m down route for all your bonking needs
• km 59.8: Great washroom and great water park. If it’s hot, try standing under the “big bucket” feature!
• km 60.6: Yes, I know the bike route was the last block. Yes, I know it says no exit. Trust me!
• km 68.7: Ride along the outside of the sports field fence. It doesn’t look like it goes anywhere but it does!
• km 72.7: Take in those views to the west!!
• km 73.2: Officially, the finish is the gate. Not that it matters because this isn’t a race.

The Seymour valley, also referred to as the LSCR (Lower Seymour Conservation Reserve), is a valley that I’ve spent quite a bit of time. There is nowhere else like it locally, providing a true wilderness experience just outside the city.

By mid-March, when this ride took place, winter is easing its grip on Vancouver. But while the temperatures were mild as some friends and I embarked on up the valley, we would discover that winter was still holding on between those mountains.

We climbed into the forest with moody but dry weather. My Bombadil had recently been re-assembled from being painted and I was enjoying the comfort of the 55mm Rene Herse knobbies. We climbed to the paved parkway, which we then followed for about 5km, midway to the lake.

From here, we took the Hydraulic Creek connector down to the midvalley lookout – a fairly short, but exciting trail to a beautiful lookout featured in a number of TV shows and movies.

The two left images above show the weather upon our arrival, versus when we packed our things about 15 minutes later. If there’s one thing the valley can be counted on, it’s unpredictable weather. As we made our way further north, we started to come across snow somewhat unexpectedly.

Located a short but steep climb from Spur 4, the gravel access road, Lost (Rolf) lake was looking especially moody this day. We enjoyed a cold beer while we ourselves were cold, before continuing on northward.

It wasn’t until we got onto Hatchery Trail at the north end of the watershed that we really experienced some proper snow! The snowmelt hadn’t quite reached sections of the trail, leaving surprisingly deep pockets of slushy white stuff.

At this point we’d already reached our furthest point and were southbound, so the snow added just the right amount of adventure without much worry. The unrideable bits were short, and soon enough we were back on the paved path southbound towards civilization. It was pretty cold and wet, and we all had some very cold extremities at one point or another, but a memorable and wonderful ride with good pals!

This is being written in Dec 2023 as I think back to the beautiful and challenging 200k brevet I rode in March 2022. I believe it was either my third or fourth 200, and I still have not ventured to longer brevets. I’m not sure if I will or not!

I rode to the start which was about 7.5km, starting around 6:20am for the 7am start. Those who know me, know I’m not really a morning person but I can manage it if I need to. The biggest hurdle is usually that I need to take Dodger, our Australian Shepherd, out for a proper walk before I can leave.

It was a good turnout, and shortly after 7am we were off, downhill on Main St which is busy during the day but nearly deserted at this time on a Saturday. The route took us along Stanley Park’s beautiful seaside road and then over a bridge out to Horseshoe Bay. This road is picturesque with rolling hills, and we double back on the same road.

I hadn’t made any firm plans to ride with friends who were also participating, as my fitness lagged behind theirs. However, for the first 50km I had pushed my pace faster than typical and was not struggling to keep up. I actually had quite a few PR’s on the first 50k, and you can imagine where this is going.

The second 50k wasn’t too bad either, and we kept together. It was around the 135km mark where the power in my legs quickly started to taper off, likely due to poor fuelling. I struggled to get out of Richmond despite being completely flat, in part due to winds which we’d been battling all day.

I encouraged my riding mates to leave me behind, but selflessly they kept wait for me and helped tow me out of Richmond and across New Westminster. We passed the 100 mile mark, around which time I was able to convince the rest of the crew to push on without me, so I could doddle my exhausted legs as slowly as I needed to.

The next 15 or 20 km were very slow, but I did regain some strength in the final hour towards the finish and was able to finish feeling pretty good, despite the final miles being a climb.

My finish time of 11h07m is to-date my slowest 200k, although my fastest is only an hour quicker. The winds and hills were part of it, coming out too fast for the first half of the ride was definitely part of it, and I likely did not keep my calorie intake where it needed to be either. All good lessons, but despite the mistakes I had another brevet in the books!

Noting that my elapsed time was 60 minutes longer than my moving time, I probably had about 20-30 minutes of stopped time that could be trimmed down, as well.

Every year, Swift Campout is organized worldwide on the same weekend as my partners’ birthday. Since going as a family is not particularly feasible for a few reasons, some years I sneak off to join friends with a quick overnight camp and some years I don’t. This year I did, just joining for the first of a two-night camp on Galiano Island.

I rode the Hillborne as outfitted above, rocking a small and large Fab’s Chest along with a small HMPL frame bag that carried my tool kit. My sleeping kit fills out the large bag out back, while the front carries my clothing, food, and kitchen items.

I hitched a ride with my pal Morgan out to the ferry, making for a minimal mileage trip to the campsite. The campsite was Montague Harbour, which is hard to beat for natural beauty. The group site isn’t particularly noteworthy, but a short trip to the beach delivers the full gulf island experience.

After enjoy the sunset, followed by a couple glasses of IPA at the group site, I got an appropriately iffy night sleep. The following morning was my partner Aimée’s birthday and I wanted to be home to join her at an outdoor movie being played by friends that evening. Thinking back, it’s kind of surreal to have been where I was, explore all I did, and make it home to see my sweetie in time to watch a movie together. It speaks to the power of the bicycle.

I left camp mid morning, not particularly early, because the ferry wasn’t until the late afternoon. Given the extra time on my hands, I decided to investigate something I saw on maps about a Japanese charcoal kiln.

If it weren’t for the clear signage at the beginning, I would have quickly turned back due to the fact the trail was nearly non-existent. Keep in mind, I was pushing my fully loaded bike with me through the brush. To my relief, the trail did open up and I found myself at the site of the kilns. Japanese immigrants landed on Galiano, as well as Steveston, in the late 1800s and brought with them knowledge of of charcoal making, which they practiced at this site to the benefit of the local economy.

From the pit site, I made the ill-advised choice to follow the trail up to the bluffs. While it was only a 300m long trail, which is how I convinced myself to do it, it was a steep hiking trail that was foolish to drag a fully laden touring bike up. Nonetheless I eventually made it, and the views all but justified my effort.

From the bluffs, I worked my way down dirt roads and back to town to meet up with friends at the weekly farmers’ market, where I enjoyed a hotdog and basked in the sun. From there I made my way towards the ferry, still very early – had I planned better I would have realized I could have easily caught the earlier ferry, so instead I spent the better part of three hours relaxing in a park just down the road from the ferry terminal.

Once on the other side, I had about 60 kilometres to get home to my sweetie, the first half being on gravel paths as shown above. It was a beautiful day, not too hot, but hours of continuous sun did take a toll on me.

It started to get dark as I neared the city, and I rolled into the movie shortly after it had begun. Above is a photo from 10pm, just having gotten situated with a beer in hand that I’d purchased at a brewery about 15 km from home. The SON tail light’s stand light still going strong.

The Discomfort Zone route was put together by friends at Love Machine Cycling with Scott, who is both a strong road & gravel rider as well as talented mountain biker. The confluence of these skills can be found in this route: it’s difficult in many respects.

I chose to ride it on my Stooge Speedbomb, which had only seen a couple rides at this point. This report doubles as a review of the Stooge.

While published as a “gravel-ish” route, I knew the trails it used are actually pretty challenging mtb trails rated black. I also opted to extend the second half to climb up to a fall-line loamer trail on Fromme that I was eager to try on the Stooge.

The route started with about 15km of pavement from home before I reached the first trail. The Stooge felt a bit unwieldy but also quite efficient; my natural speed wasn’t far below what it would be on my slick tire’d Rivendell.

When the trail did start, it was a rather relentless and lung-busting climb that traversed up from the quiet Indian River Drive up to the Seymour mountain parkway and beyond. While the Stooge frameset is not remotely lightweight, nor the build, it still feels efficient and comfortable on the climb, tracking well and the dual Kessel tires having no problem handling bursts of power to get up and over roots and rocks.

The descent started with Ned’s Atomic Dustbin, a classic shore trail that has seen some recent work since the last time I had rode it. The Speedbomb feels composed in every situation; while there is no suspension to bail you out if you choose too high of speed, the geometry is able to ensure that even the steepest line choices are possible.

I found myself starting to adapt to how the bike needed to be ridden, keeping my weight further back in the higher speed sections to account for a lack of front suspension, but trusting the front wheel in low speed maneuvers. The bike gets non-stop attention on the trail, and folks are generally of the mind I’m insane or very tough to be riding such a bike on the shore – but they are misled! There is nothing particularly difficult about riding this bike on the same terrain that I feel challenged by on a full suspension rig. I just need to be mindful of my speed and line choice.

I then traversed across a network of trails and side streets to climb a second mountain, Fromme, where several hundred meters of elevation were gained via gravel service road to ride a steep loam trail followed by a mixture of flow and technical rocky features on Dreamweaver. The pedal home was on worn legs, but the Stooge felt great the whole time.