When my Asian side comes out...

Some (many?) of you have now realized how much I love biking. Yes, it's not something that I have been doing for years but since my time in the central part of this country, the last 2 years have been filled with multiple bike rides over varied terrain, ranging from crazy temperature differences, various elevation grades, various wardrobes...

Anyways, I digress... Today I decided to conquer this weird thing that I had about biking to this certain shopping complex for groceries. To lay out the issue at hand: this complex is at sea level, I live at 140m above sea level - this doesn't sound like much but the rise from sea level to higher elevation is quite steep - my issue was that I would be biking downhill with an empty backpack, only to have to return home with a full backpack, complete with delicate fruits and vegetables. This all changed today. After my wonderful downhill ride off of campus yesterday (it's a steep 20% gradient), I figured that I had to get some fitness in today - especially since I was spending most of the day doing coursework.

The way that I convinced myself that this was a great idea is two-fold:
1) it would be excellent training for cycling Ireland;
2) I would only buy the things that I was setting out to buy (apple juice, yoghurt, tomatoes, bananas, some other good looking fruit, bulk slivered almonds, bulk candied ginger).

Well... that plan started unraveling when I arrived at the good produce grocery store. All of a sudden I was also buying a cucumber, a demi-loaf of fig and anise bread, and the piece de resistence that really evokes my Asian side: not one but two heads of cauliflower. Why two you ask? Well, it was buy one get one free, and like all good Asian girls, the free one was to be given to my aunt and uncle.

Now, as I am packing my bag for the ride back home, I am starting to think that it's pretty heavy. Its weight only became more apparent as I had to start biking home. The hills were one thing, the lights at the top of the hills were another (I successfully made all of the lights with only one slight moment when I had to pace myself in order to avoid putting down my foot). The areas that I used to think were flat became slight inclines; bref, it was a uphill battle for the entire ride home.

Once home, out of curiosity, I had to weigh my backpack. It turns out that with the addition of the two cauli-flower heads, my backpack was weighing in at 21.5lbs - no wonder that I found the bike ride home to be not as enjoyable as the ride down.

Moral of the story: don't go for the buy one get one free when the object in question is a head of cauliflower?

The letter of the weekend is "B"

So after many moons of not sharing my travels and inspirations, here I am, with the soft pitter patter of rain falling, the sweet smell of dampness throughout the air, sharing the latest adventure - one that could nearly qualify as an epic journey.

One day, on a sun-drenched patio, Ms L. and I discovered that both of us had held the same idea in mind: to bike from Swartz Bay to Victoria. This was it, we were going to make this happen. We set a date to accomplish this dream: September 8th-9th weekend, it was all going down.

The week leading up to it was filled with school returns, and even with getting back in to the scholastic groove, we were committed to following through with our plan.

Saturday morning was met with an early 6am wake-up on my part and yet, even with ample time to round up the last-minute things, I somehow ended up running behind leaving myself with a shy 17 seconds left in boarding the Seabus. Yet, Ms. L and I, both filled with nervousness and excitement, succeeded in meeting on the Canada Line platform, ready for this unknown adventure.

Onwards we went, through to Bridgeport Station where we would catch a bus to the ferry terminal. Now, we knew that there would be a chance that there could be other cyclists waiting for the bus thereby bumping us to the next available one so you can imagine our joy when we arrived at Bridgeport Station and although there is a line-up for the bus, we are the only cyclists. After a slight mishap in boarding, and subsequently getting told off by a young couple, we are en route for the next stage of our journey: the ferry.

Now, I had thought that I had understood the process of purchasing our tickets for the ferry and the proceedings for boarding but apparently not. It turns out that one must buy a ticket from an agent through the walk-on passenger line, and then head down to a bike corral area at the front of all of the cars where we would board first before all other passengers.

Enough of the procedural; words fail to describe the feeling of walking across the boarding ramp and then riding your bike onto the ferry. The holes in the grates that feel like you are about to fall through at any given moment, then the smooth, quiet metal that runs like mercury below your tires, the smell of grease, ocean, and the odd whiff of animal urine, invade all of your senses.
The ferry ride over was uneventfully filled with hot bevies, a small addition to breaky, and work-time for both of us... then the cycling portion - and the main part of our event - began...

The Lochside Trail is easy enough to find; right as soon as you disembark the ferry, you follow the bike lane from the terminal and shortly thereafter there is an overpass that one must go over in order to follow the Trail close to the water.
This Trail has a bit of something for everyone, except maybe an enthusiastic downhill mountain biker. From road riding, to seascapes, to gravel roads lined with farm land (pumpkin patches and HUGE pigs!) complete with horses alongside you that evoke my dreams of cycling Ireland, to traversing a bridge over boggy lands, to an old farm machinery museum and old men playing with model airplanes, this trail was an easy ride. Major upside? Blackberry bushes brimming with ripe ones for the picking! One of the odder moments was the discovery of a strange set-up along the trail. Ms L and I heard melancholic notes of music that were being transmitted through a stereo that had been set up - the music was the least weird of the whole sensory experience. There were signs of "Gina we love you" and displays of multiple ceramic cats littering the side of the path just in front of someone's home that is in the process of a public development proposal; we stopped, observed, ate more blackberries, and then continued on our merry way.

After a leisurely paced ride, we arrived in the Harbour ready for a (few) cold beverage(s) and a well-deserved bite to eat. Ms L introduced me to the Canoe Club - this place was just what we needed! A word of advice though, if enjoying a beverage of the hops variety, the IPA over the Bitters is our recommendation. After the meeting with a couple of Ms L's friends - and multiple hours of laughter and brainstorming, complete with the makings of a new music album - we were back on our bikes to make our way to Ms L's friend's place for some post-Beerfest celebrating. The night was comprised of a game of sky-bagging (?), some reading of "Where's Waldo", some family portraits, some fitness challenges, as well as numerous dance sessions.

The next day's ride, albeit we weren't feeling as fresh as the previous day, was a lot shorter; this was partially due to our desire to get to the ferry before the skies opened up on us - there was definitely a storm-a-brewing.

All in all, we survived. It was another fantastic outing that keeps spurring me on to do my cycling tour of Ireland next year.