Ep. 4: Abbotsford, the humchback of the Fraser Valley
Still dehydrated, my more sensible side decided it best to stop after getting off the bridge to refuel with some Gatorade. It's quite amazing how long that toothpaste sucks the moisture from your mouth... It had a discernible effect even 2+ hours into my ride.
As I continued along the "highway" I soon (though it seemed like a long way due to the absence of landmarks, unless you include blades of grass as landmarks which to my perception seem rather similar) made it to Sumas Road. This turned out to be Sumas hill. Crossing a few lanes of traffic, a swift left turn got me to the middle of the road, wide enough but daunting to a small vehicle such as myself when large multi-ton machines of death are careening in both directions around me. Mercifully I found a break so I could narrow my chances of being smashed down to those motorized vehicles coming from behind me. And then I climbed. I climbed methodically, slowly.
It's an interesting situation when you can't see the end of a hill, or even where it might crest to a decreased incline. My body has learned to conserve energy while going up these mysterious mountains, but again the doubt is not far away. Where there is doubt, energy decreases proportionately, and while I knew that there had to be a top to this geographical monstrosity there wasn't a perceptible reason why I should think that way. Being that I could not turn back, I took this opportunity to reflect upon yet another of God's lessons for me: the end is often not in sight. In fact, the largest hills I've gone up are those which I had to wait the longest to see the top; so it is also with life, I find... The most long-term, worthwhile goals are the ones which you can't see the end. Of course, with biking up a mountain, you have to ask yourself "what's the point?" and, consequently, "isn't there a way around this thing which might be... flatter?".
For this excursion, I answered these questions as follows: "I do not know nor care" and "yes, but that would be longer and no where near as grueling", respectively.
Finding the downhill right after I passed under an overpass (to be mentioned later), I pushed as hard as I could so as to make up for any lost time from the careful pushing up Sumas Road... Soon connecting to South Parallel Road, which was an experience all on its own.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Chilliwack'ed Ep. 3
Ep. 3: A Profusion of Confusion
As one enters Mission with the intention of going to Abbotsford, there are likely signs of varying nature which indicate the correct turn onto the Abbotsford-Mission Highway. I did not see these. There was, however, a "Route 11" which looked remarkably like the overhead pictures I saw on Google Maps; yet it was not exactly what I wanted to take, so I kept on going.
As I continued to push through Mission, the thought occurred to me that Mission is really not that large a town and I seemed to be going very far to get to a road which should go into the middle of Mission. Eventually the suburban scenery dissipated, leaving an info center in the distance as the only possible location for assistance in this moment of uncertainty.
I will, for your benefit, translate the thoughts that were going through my mind, though in nicer language because it was spoken in anger initially and I am able to correct this now:
"Well I certainly feel bad for having missed that seemingly un-signed turn. It did seem inevitable earlier that I would miss something at some point, but this is getting close to my limit of patience. Oh, and I have to climb a hill to make up for my ill-chosen direction... I don't think it looks like a nice hill, either... Ah well, have to get back."
Imagine something like that, except with a bit of profanity thrown in there.
Anyways, fortunately there was a route back which meant I didn't have to go the full distance, but instead just over some overpasses till I hit Route 11. As I went over the bridge which spans the width of the Fraser River, it reminded me of the last time I had been there around sunset. I couldn't reminisce long, unfortunately... It was important that I got over the bridge quickly as I was riding my bike over it, an infraction merely due to a low railing making one's height on a bike enough that hitting the railing might turn your bike ride into a swim hastily. Really, you don't have to worry... I'm safe for the most part and even when I'm not, it's typically calculated stupidity.
So after a small detour, I was on track, over the bridge staring out at the wonderful world of Abbotsford... Well, it was Abbotsford, anyways... Lots of fields and basically nothingness civilization-wise, but I kept going.... to Sumas Road.
As one enters Mission with the intention of going to Abbotsford, there are likely signs of varying nature which indicate the correct turn onto the Abbotsford-Mission Highway. I did not see these. There was, however, a "Route 11" which looked remarkably like the overhead pictures I saw on Google Maps; yet it was not exactly what I wanted to take, so I kept on going.
As I continued to push through Mission, the thought occurred to me that Mission is really not that large a town and I seemed to be going very far to get to a road which should go into the middle of Mission. Eventually the suburban scenery dissipated, leaving an info center in the distance as the only possible location for assistance in this moment of uncertainty.
I will, for your benefit, translate the thoughts that were going through my mind, though in nicer language because it was spoken in anger initially and I am able to correct this now:
"Well I certainly feel bad for having missed that seemingly un-signed turn. It did seem inevitable earlier that I would miss something at some point, but this is getting close to my limit of patience. Oh, and I have to climb a hill to make up for my ill-chosen direction... I don't think it looks like a nice hill, either... Ah well, have to get back."
Imagine something like that, except with a bit of profanity thrown in there.
Anyways, fortunately there was a route back which meant I didn't have to go the full distance, but instead just over some overpasses till I hit Route 11. As I went over the bridge which spans the width of the Fraser River, it reminded me of the last time I had been there around sunset. I couldn't reminisce long, unfortunately... It was important that I got over the bridge quickly as I was riding my bike over it, an infraction merely due to a low railing making one's height on a bike enough that hitting the railing might turn your bike ride into a swim hastily. Really, you don't have to worry... I'm safe for the most part and even when I'm not, it's typically calculated stupidity.
So after a small detour, I was on track, over the bridge staring out at the wonderful world of Abbotsford... Well, it was Abbotsford, anyways... Lots of fields and basically nothingness civilization-wise, but I kept going.... to Sumas Road.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Chilliwack'ed Ep. 2
Ep. 2: A Mission to Mission...
It is a long way between Port Coquitlam and Mission. A distance made perceptively longer by the absence of civilization and abundance of foliage. A seemingly endless expanse of concrete which at times one can see about 5 km ahead and other times can barely see 50m ahead.
The time taken to cross this beautiful God-given creation (complete with man-made asphalt and sawmills) allows for much time for contemplation. Even with my iPod plugged in (and, as my father would say, myself being consequently 'tuned out'), I began to think. Actually, a better word would be doubt. I began to doubt many things.... How far could I really get? Do I truly have enough energy? What does this say about my sanity? Of course, I really couldn't answer any of these and, being accustomed to a certain degree of doubt in my life, decided they were better left a mystery to be handled at a later time. After all, aren't "Our doubts... traitors, mak[ing] us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt." (Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, 1.4.87-9)?
Now, the most interesting moment of my journey to Mission: eating a Clif bar. While biking. Oh, and while maintaining a decent speed... Yeah, it was not my most graceful moment in life. I had decided before that I would eat a Clif bar (amazing energy bar) after 1.75hrs of biking. Having reached this milestone, I pulled out one of the two Clif bars I had put in my pockets, a Crunchy Peanut Butter Bar. Having only one hand to open it with (the other required to keep my bike both upright and on course), improvisation was needed. Using my teeth/tongue to maneuver the wrapper, I opened it after much wobbling around in a very non-dexterous show of grace in motion. Now came the point of consumption. Without using more higher-functioning areas of my brain, I took one large mouthful in one bite, taking about 2/3 of the bar into my mouth at one time. Those who are lovers of peanut butter will attest to what happens when you get too much in your mouth at one time. To say the least, breathing became a trial. So there I was, a wonky, misshapen Lance Armstrong wannabe desperately sucking in air while attempting to avoid the multi-ton chariots of death which were still screaming by me without a thought as to what this strange man might be doing in such a precarious situation as biking beside a semi-major highway. To say the least, smaller bites were taken after this event.
Having already nearly killing myself with what should have provided more energy, I realized that there are worse things that could happen. When I got to Mission, some of them did.
It is a long way between Port Coquitlam and Mission. A distance made perceptively longer by the absence of civilization and abundance of foliage. A seemingly endless expanse of concrete which at times one can see about 5 km ahead and other times can barely see 50m ahead.
The time taken to cross this beautiful God-given creation (complete with man-made asphalt and sawmills) allows for much time for contemplation. Even with my iPod plugged in (and, as my father would say, myself being consequently 'tuned out'), I began to think. Actually, a better word would be doubt. I began to doubt many things.... How far could I really get? Do I truly have enough energy? What does this say about my sanity? Of course, I really couldn't answer any of these and, being accustomed to a certain degree of doubt in my life, decided they were better left a mystery to be handled at a later time. After all, aren't "Our doubts... traitors, mak[ing] us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt." (Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, 1.4.87-9)?
Now, the most interesting moment of my journey to Mission: eating a Clif bar. While biking. Oh, and while maintaining a decent speed... Yeah, it was not my most graceful moment in life. I had decided before that I would eat a Clif bar (amazing energy bar) after 1.75hrs of biking. Having reached this milestone, I pulled out one of the two Clif bars I had put in my pockets, a Crunchy Peanut Butter Bar. Having only one hand to open it with (the other required to keep my bike both upright and on course), improvisation was needed. Using my teeth/tongue to maneuver the wrapper, I opened it after much wobbling around in a very non-dexterous show of grace in motion. Now came the point of consumption. Without using more higher-functioning areas of my brain, I took one large mouthful in one bite, taking about 2/3 of the bar into my mouth at one time. Those who are lovers of peanut butter will attest to what happens when you get too much in your mouth at one time. To say the least, breathing became a trial. So there I was, a wonky, misshapen Lance Armstrong wannabe desperately sucking in air while attempting to avoid the multi-ton chariots of death which were still screaming by me without a thought as to what this strange man might be doing in such a precarious situation as biking beside a semi-major highway. To say the least, smaller bites were taken after this event.
Having already nearly killing myself with what should have provided more energy, I realized that there are worse things that could happen. When I got to Mission, some of them did.
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