Kiskatinaw Provincial Park, BC >> Tumbler Ridge >> Chetwynd >> Prince George >> Mt. Robson Provincial Park 570 miles ridden/12 hours
If there’s a hockey stick learning curve associated with this trip, today I hit the vertical section.
For starters, I scoffed at a local trying to be helpful at a gas station in Tumbler Ridge who advised that I’d need a truck to get to the Kinuseo Falls campground. I’d just been to the Arctic Circle, after all… I was unstoppable! But after only 30 miserable minutes of navigating my bike through a field of baseball- and softball-sized rocks that was supposed to be a road, I’d had enough. It seemed like the 40-mile trip to the falls would take as long as my voyage to the Arctic Circle and be equally treacherous. Instead of enduring hours more of this, I devoured a slice of humble pie and headed back to Tumbler Ridge.
Easier said than done, however. At a fork on this desolate, nondescript road I couldn’t remember if I’d turned left or right on my way here, and blindly drove east for 40 minutes before flagging down the first vehicle I saw (an RV). Instead of making my way to Tumbler Ridge, I was on a backroad to Alberta! When I finally made it to Tumbler Ridge, I swung by the Visitor Information Center and suggested they put a sign at the offending intersection.
Refusing to ride the same road twice, I then took Route 29 north to Chetwynd, where I spotted a wooden chainsaw art sculpture of Canada’s most famous export outside of maple syrup: the X-Men’s Wolverine! It was a cool statue if not perhaps a bit out of place: Per his comic book origin story, the character is actually an Albertan.
The day’s second lesson: Ignore Rules of the Road at your own peril!
At the advice of everyone I met in the last few days, I was trying to reach Mount Robson Provincial Park before nightfall to avoid any animals that might decide to wander into the road. With this in mind and the sun setting, I bypassed the gas station at McBride, about 50 miles from the park, reasoning that if I rode conservatively – Ha! – I could roll into the campground on fumes and refill the tank from my jerry can the next morning.
If I hadn’t been on some of the most remote roads in Canada for the last few weeks, I suppose I wouldn’t have been bothered by the thought of riding behind another vehicle – but I was – so I passed every car I encountered. And sure enough, less than a mile from the park entrance, the bike sputtered to a stop as it ran out of gas. Naturally, the string of cars I’d spent precious fuel overtaking cruised by as I prepped for a roadside refill.
But before I could even unstrap the jerry can from the back of my bike, the homeowner across the street had pulled his truck up behind me, turned on his hazards, and emerged with a spare gallon of gas. Responding to my look of incredulity, he said: “I heard you run out of fuel… It happens all the time.” Who needs CAA/AAA when you break down by this guy’s house?
We chatted for a bit; he refused to take any money for the fuel and I was soon up and running again. Minutes later, I was setting up camp. That the sun had completely set by 10pm was a sign of just how far south I’d traveled in the past four days. Increased possibility of animal strikes aside, one pleasant side effect of being surrounded by darkness was seeing stars for the first time in weeks. It was beautiful.
Tomorrow I’ll depart for Lake Louise.