Bicycle Touring
August 23rd, 2010
 Claire on the Kettle Valley Rail Trail
In the summer of 1997 we did a Zippy (our tandem) tour of British Columbia and Alberta, 5,000 kilometers (3,000 miles). Toward the end of our two months, we said goodbye to Steve Richards who’d been with us for three weeks in the mountains of Southern BC. Steve was later to finish his own trans-Canada tour. We got on the, still unfinished, Kettle Valley Railway (rail trail) bypassing Kelona and on to Penticton. The Myra-Bellevue Provincial Park is the most spectacular section of the trail, with 18 trestles and two tunnels in an 8.5 kilometer section. On this section, we met a couple who invited us to stay in their cabin near Penticon. They were obviously experts on riding the trail; they had us riding the unfinished trestles, with 6 inch spaces between cross-beams; we had to keep up quite a bit of speed to keep from shaking the fillings from our teeth, but it was fun. Unfortunately I can’t remember their names, but they might be found in the Canadian Love Story, British Columbia/Alberta section on this site.
We were heartbroken to learn that the Okanagan fires of 2003, burned most of the trestles. Originally built for the Kettle Valley Railway, to stop we Americans from stealing their silver and transporting it south across the border. Begun in 1896 and finished in 1916, it was, and still is, considered an engineering feat given the steepness of the terrain. It became part of the Trans Canada Trail after abandonment late in the last century.
After the fires, Canadians pulled together to replace the national treasures between 2004 and 2008. We decided we wanted to revisit the rail, and see the new and repaired trestles, and plotted a mountain bike ride. All access roads are gravel, and we decided to ride from the nearest paved road to save Turtle (our motorhome) wear and tear, and get in a good workout. We got what we wanted! A 2,000 foot elevation change in five miles is quite a grunt, for two motorhome travel softened cyclists. We wondered how we ever managed to get to the trail on a fully loaded Zippy. It could have to do with the reality that both of us were 13 years younger then. Damn. Hate those reminders.
The Myra rebuilt trestle section of trail has become somewhat a victim of its own success; the trailhead parking area, ¼ mile long, was filled on Sunday. The first few kilometers of the trail was crawling with cyclists and walkers, making the going slow, but we’d had our workout, and just wanted to see the trestles at leisure.
Unfortunately many of the cyclists thought the eight kilometer section of flat trail constituted their workout, and went way too fast for the crowding. Almost no one wore helmets, and tended to pass each other, and walkers, at high speed on the trestles. One unfortunate older woman cyclist was forced off the middle boards and crashed against the railing, unable to handle the cross beams. She was wearing a helmet, but hurt her shoulder and was in considerable distress. A doctor and a trail volunteer were soon on the scene with first aid. I have often observed that, contrary to popular belief, separate trails are in many cases not safer than the roads. I’ve seen too many inexperienced cyclists exceeding their skill level, probably because they feel safe on a trail. We support trails with our dollars and labor, but do suggest that beginning cyclists avoid the week-end warriors and get some experience in mid-week when the trails are quiet. If you are a regular trail user, call-out the speeders and obviously unsafe riders, you could save some proper trail user a painful crash. If you yourself feel the need for speed, get on the road and leave the trails for others.
 Father and son building rock cairns, something of a tradition on the Kettle Valley Rail Trail. “I was here!”
 “Is this the way to the trail mix?”
August 3rd, 2010
Grizzly Track
A bit of a look back at our time in Alaska, so far:
In nearly a month in Alaska we’d had precious few days without rain or heavy clouds. Our hopes of seeing much took a first blow when we tried to drive across the Denali Highway to Denali a few days after entering from Canada. A hard all night rain produced a serious leak over our bed, and the sky looked like more to come, so we beat it to Anchorage to get the link fixed. We wouldn’t have seen any of Denali anyway. We went to Karen’s RV, and the tech assured us he’d fixed the problem; except it didn’t work.(Karen agreed to refund our money). We met Barry and Joyce Weiss, friends of friends in Tucson, and they took us for a hike Flattop and had us for dinner. We also got in a bike ride on one of the Anchorage trails, with some tantalizing blue patches. Anchorage is the best place in Alaska to see a moose, and probably a grizzly, though we apparently just missed that pleasure also.
We had two weeks of rain, save three separate days, one hiking along Turnagain Arm (just missed a bear encounter, same day, same trail), one in Kenai Fjords National Park (wonderful) and one at Homer (great bike ride). We enjoyed some great boondocks on rivers and lakes, but the constant rain and black skies began to take a toll.
Back in anchorage we had two more nice days, one spent on the leak and one getting an oil change. We did have a great pizza at Moose’s Tooth with Barry and Joyce before turning north in hopes of temperatures above 55F, and at least a little sun. By this time we’d pretty much given up on seeing Denali. We had see the mountain from the Turnagain Arm trail, very far away, impressively so.
Turning North: A spawning salmon in Denali State Park
We went back to Palmer, mostly for the library, but also the “famous” farmers market. All three of the farmers at the market complained of the rain and lack of sun this year, and their vegetables proved their point.
We tried to find some wi fi at Wasilla and it wasn’t easy. The library seems a volunteer operation only, but the highway is lined with big box stores. We judge a town by its library, not number of highways and stores, all are important, but not as welcoming as a well-loved, well-supported library. It was raining, so we couldn’t see Russia. Wasilla seems to be a good place to bypass. The lady at the visitor’s center was brutally honest about her town, not something we expect from Chamber of Commerce operations. Good on ya gal!
Alaska RV Travel 2010
Talkeetna was very worth visiting, though the pouring rain kept us from walking the charming street. We did enjoy the library. It was in an old house, but had great wi fi and lots of visitors. We could have stayed for days, but were expected the rain to continue, and it did.
Caribou in Denali National Park
On the George Park’s Highway headed north we found saw a few little blue patches and decided to stop at the Denali Viewpoint South, to give the mountain a chance to peek at us, and a hundred or so other tourists. It stopped raining, and the distant clouds, over Ruth Glacier, began to rise and larger blue holes broke through the gray. We decided to stay as long as it took to get a peek of the mountain. In late afternoon we were rewarded with a bump on the south ridge, and finally the summit. Within minutes the clouds closed in again, but our hopes were so high we decided to park for the night. We had a windshield view of where the mountain should be, just in case, and we awoke several times to check. No luck.
At Cantwell we drove a few miles of the Denali Highway to a boondock with a spectacular view of the wide glacial tundra valley. We took a nap, and when we awoke there were fresh caribou tracks by Turtle’s steps. Then the sky fell again and was raining by morning.
Giving Dinali A Chance: Denali at Last, Sunshine at Last
The rain continued the last few miles to Denali National Park entrance, and we almost drove past, but we decided to go to the Wilderness Access Center to at least check the weather. The forecast — mostly been wrong so far — looked a little better a day out, so we decided to camp at Riley Creek and see. We had time to hike a couple of miles and happy that the rain stopped.
The next day we discovered that a biker/hiker campground 23 miles in was available, and the weather was already improving. By noon we’d loaded the mountain bikes, and we were off. The traffic was not bad, the hills fairly long. We saw the mountain (hooray!), two caribou, a family of ptarmigan, a snowshoe hare, and a huge set of grizzly tracks. We arrived at Sanctuary River with plenty of time to organize our camp and stow our food safe from bears, and from attracting bears. No bears. Oh, wrong! Claire surprised me with Lucky! She figured if our little stuffed panda had traveled through Tibetan Sichuan and all of Southeast Asia with us, he ought to come on this little trip too. I was very happy with the surprise. Claire says I’m easy to please. She knows how.
Filtering Water
After packing up everything the next morning, we decided to stash our gear in the bushes (no food) and ride further into the park. We hoped we could get a lift on one of the green buses (they have racks for two bikes). The landscape becomes more spectacular as you get deeper into the park. We didn’t however see anything more than a few small critters; still no bears, except Lucky.
Cycling Denali
We waved down a green bus that was almost full, but had room for us, and our bicycles, and the driver agreed to stop for our gear. Claire and I were separated, and amazingly we able to talk to two different groupings of the same Chinese family. We had a lot to talk about and they really enjoyed hearing about how much we enjoy traveling in China. Most of the family is U.S. citizens from Chicago, but the patriarch still lives in China and is just visiting. He told Claire he really missed Chinese food.
Bushwhacking Denali
We stayed another day, took a green bus out 15 miles and hiked most of the day, most of it cross-country; still no bears. But we did have another day of sunshine.
Flower of the Tundra
 Denali Bus
 Fox Scat With Tooth and Fur
It’s been sunny since we crossed north of the mountains, and hot, 85 each day. It’s a challenge to go from days of mid 50’s to mid 80’s, but we like it. Both of the roads we had planned to take from here back through Canada are restricted due to flood damage or fire. We hope the fire is out before we get to the Stewart Cassier south of White Horse.
July 26th, 2010
By Bob Rogers
After 35 years, the first Khmer Rouge mass murderer has been convicted in Cambodia. We’ve all heard of the killing fields of Cambodia, when the Khmer Rouge murdered between one and two million other Cambodians. It was one of the worst periods of mass murder in history. It was the Chinese Cultural Revolution gone crazy. The Khmer Rouge, in attempting to bring about an agrarian utopian society, sought out and murdered anyone with an education, and anyone associated with them.
I remember following news reports of the carnage in this far away land, and wondering how such a thing could happen in a society. After Claire and I bicycled the length of Cambodia near the end of our In Search of Shangri-la tour, I am even more puzzled, and not a little disconcerted.
While the Cambodians are not as laid back as Lao, or as industrious as Vietnamese, they were friendly. Though not as outwardly happy as the irrepressible Lao, they were reasonably outgoing. And yet, some of the older Cambodians we saw must surely have been murderers. The Khmer Rouge were peasants, and we traveled through the rural countryside at twelve miles per hour, bought food from them at markets and street restaurants, slept in their guest houses. We smiled and received smiles in return. And yet, there was a pall of uncertainty for me, as I watched a landscape roll past, a rice small field that just might have been a killing field.
The Image most people have of the killing fields and mass graves, are of one central location near the Capitol, Phnom Penh. But, the killings took place in villages across Cambodia and the mounded mass graves still stand above the rice paddies, sometimes marked by simple concrete altars festooned with flowers and incense. Someone remembers and makes offerings to the gods, offerings of remembrance, and perhaps a hope that such a thing never happen again. It is an eerie sight to see the rice people working their fields so close to the bones of those killed there.
The reason Cambodia has been so slow to begin the process of justice escapes me, but I am not Asian. I didn’t grow up working dawn to dusk fighting the vagaries of nature, just to have a bowl of rice. From what we saw in Laos and Vietnam, Southeast Asians tend toward forgiveness. They hold no grudges against the former enemies in what they call the American War. Perhaps the Cambodians have passed on opportunities for justice all these years because they are either forgiving, or they are guilty. Now a generation is coming of age with no memory of those times. Perhaps the justice beginning now will educate them.
If such a gentle people were capable of those atrocities, what society is not? If Cambodians could become so divided that they began murdering other Cambodians, could we? How far must civil discourse erode before “the other” is so reprehensible to deserve killing?
For more on Cambodia go to New Bohemians, In Search of Shangri-la
April 9th, 2010
 This is not the Buddha. The complexity of religious imagery in Southeast Asia is staggering to the Western mind. As we meandered the region at twelve miles per hour on our tandem bicycle, we saw so many depictions of religious beings that we will be years sorting them all out, if we ever manage the task.
Our idea before traveling there by muscle power, was that various forms of Buddhism was the dominant spiritual force. We spent twelve days in Bangkok in 2000, after our tandem tour around Australia, visiting temples, and missed the complexity of spiritual life in Southeast Asia. In Bangkok, Buddhist is the dominant religion, and the other forms were decidedly muted by the fantastic representations of the Buddha. Outside of the large centers, religious symbolism is much more complex matter.
The photo above is one of many very large stone statues at Buddha Park a dozen or so kilometers outside of Vientiane, Laos. In the middle of a long hot day on a dirt road, we spent an hour or more wandering this fantastic few acres near the Mekong river. Although called Buddha Park, it contained representations of numerous spiritual beings, figures in a complex mythology of Asian historic spiritual practice.
I post this because Claire is now finishing up her first magazine article, illustrated with both our photos from this tandem trip, The Many Faces of Buddha. We will announce when the article ,and post a link to the magazine’s site.
If anyone has any interest in the complexity of Southeast Asian spirituality, and wishes to share experiences or knowledge about it, we’d love to hear from you. Post a comment below.
There will be more photos in later articles.
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Claire on the Kettle Valley Rail Trail
Father and son building rock cairns, something of a tradition on the Kettle Valley Rail Trail. “I was here!”
“Is this the way to the trail mix?”
