Day 54: Trails and mountain shadows

I got up at 5am and was riding by 6am, the early sun giving the mountain tops a golden red tint. Out of town I rode past old wooden churches and headed off the highway onto a side road, paved and smooth with hardly any traffic. I knew it was a risk taking the scenic 'cycle route' suggested by google maps, but I haven't been off the highway since my first day in Manitoba so I was up for it, whatever it was going to throw at me.

The road was on the eastern side of the wide Creston Valley, in the shade of the mountain with a wonderful view of the sun drenched valley and mountains on the other side. I'd even go as far to say that I was a little chilly, but after overheating for days, that was welcome relief. 

After going through a small village, the road that went to Duck Lake turned into a dirt track but it was still pretty smooth and I'd come this far... The road surface was variable but not the worst and the views were incredible! The lake was dead calm, reflecting the mountains. Ducks and geese and pelicans were swimming around peacefully. I couldn't go 10 meters without wanting to stop and take a picture! 

At the far side of the lake, the road turned to go the length of the lake. The trees and bushes grew right up to the road here and the road surface got rougher and rougher. I suddenly felt a long was from anyone and a bit nervous about whether I could even get out the other side - it didn't look like the type of road that got driven along very often. The grass was long in the middle of the road and the dirt surface was rippled like a supersize rumble strip, which was pretty unpleasant. I hit a patch of soft sand doing 20kmh, front and back wheels skidding in opposite directions but somehow managed to stop without falling off. Keep calm and take your time, I'm sure nobody builds a road that goes almost back to the highway, but not quite...

About a kilometre from the end, I saw something lying in the road and slowed down, ringing my bell. A huge coyote got up and gracefully trotted off the road into the woods. 

I could see the highway up ahead - at the top of a small cliff. And my dirt track ended with a turnaround place. There is no way in hell I am riding all the way back, even if I have to carry one bag at a time up that rock face to the highway. Then I spotted an old overgrown track that led me up a steep gravel hill, pushing my bike in a growing cloud of mosquitos. I wondered where they'd all been hiding the last few days! At the top of the slope I was greeted not by the road but a railway. My heart sank. But the other side, slightly off to the left, the overgrown track continued - salvation! By this point there were so many mosquitos that my clothes looked furry and they were flying into my nose, mouth and ears. With mosquito-induced superhuman strength, I lifted my entire bike up and ran across the railway line, up the grassy hill and over a low gate to the highway, riding off down the smooth road swatting at my arms and legs in a frenzy, glad that the ordeal was behind me.

I caught my breath riding downhill then saw two cyclists on recumbent bikes in a pull-in. We chatted until the mozzies started to bite and I realised how hungry I was, 5am being too early for breakfast. The lady gave me a banana bar, which was delicious and allowed me to take on the hilly lakeshore road. Up and down it went in the glorious shadow of the mountain and the dappled shade of the trees. It was a beautiful ride and I enjoyed the short hills, the amazing scenery. On the right there were roadside wildflowers and dense woodland. On the left, a steep wooded slope down to the lake. Beyond the lake, forested mountains with rocky snow-speckled peaks.

I stopped at a house (now tourist attraction) that was hand built using empty glass bottles. It was beautifully crafted, complete with landscaped garden overlooking the lake. After a chat with the proprietor and the recumbent couple who'd caught up with me, I took a recommendation for where to have lunch and carried on up and down, up and down.

By 10.45 I'd ridden 70km and stopped at an art gallery by the lake, my thighs burning. I ended up staying for over an hour, chatting to Geri and her husband in their beautiful house, hungrily chowing down on microwaved leftovers. He used to work on the railways and talked about interesting feats of railway engineering and how many engines it takes to get a 200 carriage train through the Rockies (five engines - three at the front, one in the middle and one at the back).

My plan for the day was to ride to the north end of the lake, get the ferry across and camp on the other side but the village of Crawford Bay was lovely and I got a pitch at the campground there instead, having totalled 80km. A few art galleries later and I'm in a cafe eating bean wraps and drinking delicious ale in the shady garden. Ahhh.