Posted by: Silver | November 3, 2010

Chilliwack to Hope

Definitely a journey of two halves. I decided to move on to my new host a couple of days early, because the day on which I’d originally planned to travel was forecast to be very wet. Even so, I left under depressingly grey skies and light drizzle. It never got wet enough to need my waterproof, but the skies did provide enough water to make a muddy, puddly mess out of the pot-holed dirt track down which google directions erroneously sent me. So by the time I’d extracted myself from there, only to discover that the public toilets on the correct route were locked, I was definitely starting to succumb to a mild case of “What the hell am I doing?” syndrome.

And then came the Agassiz-Rosedale bridge over the Fraser River. It’s long, it has no shoulder, and no clear line of sight to see if anything’s coming the other way. So if you should happen to come upon a random triker whilst driving across, you really don’t have any choice but to get stuck behind her until the shoulder reappears. And the only consolation I can offer to any irate motorist reduced to such a crawl is that I guarantee the triker will be just as stressed as you are about the appearance of such an unwanted entourage. The road signs proclaimed ‘Cyclists use caution’, which has got to be one of the most unnecessary exhortations ever; far more useful would have been something along the lines of ‘Motorists be patient with cyclists: they’re doing their best…’

Once on the other side of the river, however, things started to brighten up – literally. The sun came out, highway 7 was a joy to ride on (smooth, flat and with a nice wide shoulder) and someone waved to me as they passed (something that hasn’t happened too often since I left the Yukon). Both Agassiz and Hope struck me as really nice little towns and even the climb from 70m up to nearly 250m in less than 3km didn’t dampen my spirits as I arrived at my new host’s house in pleasant evening sunshine. I desperately tried to avoid bad puns, but couldn’t help feeling ‘Hope’ful about my latest placement…

Maybe the dramatic scenery as I departed would have cheered me up - if I'd been able to see it through the drizzle...

Ranger takes a break amongst the autumnal foliage of Agassiz

The clouds may have been low, but my spirits were high by the time I hit Highway 7

Just another humdrum view from my journey to work...

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Responses

  1. LOVE the photos – just knowing there are views like that out there makes me happy!

  2. Hello. 🙂 I was in Whitby with Dvae last weekend at the Goth Festival (we played a gig at the Rifle Club there). At the recommendation of a local we went for lunch in The Granby on Skinner Street. There we sat at a small table next to a larger one
    which had two locals and two visiting Canadians on it. One of the Canadians struck up a conversation with us, “do you guys win prizes for the best costume?” I winced and put him straight on the ‘costume vs outfit’ thing and how we were a subculture attending a festival, not a bunch of normal people at a fancy dress party.
    “We don’t have Goths in Canada” he lamented.
    “Ah but you do!” I replied and told him and his companions about you.
    “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of this lady” said the other Canadian, “she was mentioned on our local radio show a few weeks back…”

    So there you go. The only two Canadians in Whitby that weekend met two people from Cambridge who were good friends of someone they’d heard about on their local radio station. Canada really can’t be as big as all the maps say!! 😉


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