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So off I went up the big hill I knew was there. Though the maps and stories told of a steeper hill than I found and by dusk I was almost at the summit of Pine Pass. My plan was to ride as late as I could to make sure I made it on time and so as the darkness gathered I put on my lights (a new one to replace the one pinched back in Fort Nelson). By about 8 I had finished the climb and was now following a winding, lonely road high up in the mountains. There was little traffic, perhaps one truck each 10 minutes. When they came from the front I would have to lower my head and furrow my brow to limit the glare of their headlights, and when they approached from behind I became nervous, checking over my shoulder to see if they were pulling out. Then looking ahead at the shadow they had made of me, watching for it to arc to the right and then checking over my shoulder again just to be sure. I passed the occassional lodge or cafe but didn’t enter, I had my own food and could do without the warmth for now. Still, I felt a thrill each time I passed the homeliness of lights and warmth, back into the thick and welcoming darkness. I imagined watching myself from above, just John on his bike with donuts and the blink blink blinking red light. I could make out a mountain range to my left though couldn’t see for sure where the tops were, sometimes a little way above, other times much higher, looming over the road. I felt that thrill again and pedalled on. I saw a creature, not a deer for sure but in my poor light I couldn’t see what it was, a wolf, a big cat, probably just a fox. After a while I reached a downhill and leant over my handlebars to put my front light on its highest setting, illuminating the white line to my right for about 10 metres ahead, which now passed quickly. The bridge, and then pilons took me by surprise as they were outside my narrow beam. The hill steepened and though I couldn’t tell at the time I was now going 55kmph, concentrating fully on that white line, scrutinizing any signposts for hints of curves ahead. Twice a truck approached from in front and I had to lower my gaze from its lights (the Basilisk’s eyes) but first memorising the upcoming curves. Then a quick look up before ducking again for the rush of air that always followed a couple of seconds after a truck. Then the steepness cooled to a flat again and I was through Pine Pass. It was about 10 by then and the weather deterioarated to dull rain. By midnight I was tiring. I noticed my thoughts becoming stranger, actually the thoughts that lead to dreams. I could have easily snapped out of it by pulling down my muffler and letting th cold air in but I was reluctant to do that. Also I had read about a guy called Schermer having a UFO abduction hallucination on a long ride and I wanted one too. But I was tired yet not exhausted and so there were no hallucinations and instead I felt myself weave to the left and correct myself automatically, then realising my eyes had been closed, so I had fallen asleep on my bike (again). Now desperate for a place to sleep and yet not wanting to pitch my tent in the now heavy rain I hoped for a shelter and not long after saw a light, which turned out to be a cafe, closed of course (now 1am), but the toilets were open and there was a space outside the cubicles big enough for my bivi and so there I slept.

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After a fairly easy ride the next day into Prince George I heard from Tom that he had managed to hitch on and suddenly I felt tired, no longer excited about Halloween and my plans. But I needn’t have worried, the tiredness went and I was now on the Hospitality Highway.

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I was greeted by Kim and her friend Kyra. Kim had pasta ready for my arrival and a costume laid out for the evening ahead - my first authentic Halloween. It was a fun night and ended with me asleep on her futon, still in my pharaoh costume. Kim was a great host, keen to make sure I was content and having a good time (and I was) and I stayed with her for another two days, with her and Kyra keeping me well fed. When I did leave I had a bag full of food for the road and headed towards Quesnel.

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It was an easy two day ride and when I got there I met Mike in a Tim Hortons. Mike invited me to stay with him and we quickly became good friends. I stayed with him for two more days, enjoying the best of Quesnel and then once more I left (though Mike was keen for me to stay as long as I liked - ’stay all winter if you like lad’).

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Another day in the saddle and then I was in Mcleese Lake. I walked into a pub and straight away the landlord (Greg) gave me my coke on the house - ‘you’re the cyclist? then you’re the designated driver.’ Then I was given a Guinness. Then a bowl of soup. Then a shot of Amarula. Then a reflective vest, and finally a warm and dry spot to sleep in.

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Amazed by this run of generosity I rode towards Williams Lake, where I am now. I had to pass through the stretch of savage dogs, chasing me down the road biting at my bags, with me speeding up so as to keep them at the bags and not my ankles. Then a while later I heard a bark, loud enough to hear through my headphones, not a dog. And to my immediate right I saw a bear and her cub scampering away - I must have surprised them and luckily her response was flight. And soon I was in Williams Lake, and not two minutes after I had arrived had a lady called Pam offered me a place to stay! So that is where I will be tonight, riding the hospitality highway.

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I still had headwinds the next day and was still climbing and had run out of doughnuts and the scenery was really quite dull compared to my previous rides and so the day became a slog, just trying to get to Buckinghorse by night so that I could read into the evening and sit in the warmth. I had planned on eating my wraps and cream cheese for dinner but started promising myself hot food if I made it that night, and I did arrive at about 7, and then I ordered hot food.

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And while I was marvelling at the artificial light Justin introduced himself to me and when he left invited me to join him and some friends for a drink. When I turned up I was offered (recommended?) a shower and took one as it had been over a week. Then on my return we got started on Justin’s stash of alcomohol and by the time people turned up for drinks we had been through multiple vodkas, whiskys and a drink called, well I don’t remember the name but it was a bizarre mix of vodka, kahlua, milk and coke. And then we began the drinking games. Justin successfully got me drunk (a good host) and by midnight I was asleep on his couch.

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I woke up in the same spot (phew) at about 8 in the morning and decided I might as well get going. It was a brave decision seeing as I wasn’t able to drink even water at the time, and the first 3 miles were among the most miserable I remember. But surely a long ride is the ultimate hangover cure, and by lunchtime I was feeling remarkably better and able to speak. The wind had become sporadic, swirling, hitting me in the face, then chasing me from behind, then slamming me in the side sending me out into the road. But it was an improvement on the boring, predictable headwind of the first 2 days and just after lunch I reached the peak of my long climb (Pink Mountain) and so after that I had a net downhill too. What with the regaining of peripheral vision it was turning into a glorious day.

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I pitched that night in a hamlet called Wonowon (at mile 101 from Dawson Creek. 101. Wonowon. 101) and had the wind ripping around my tent all night. I woke in the morning, highly reluctant to get up and sat there mulling over the day ahead instead. I knew the headwind was back and that I had a grim 60 miles ahead of me to Fort St. John (the end of the ride). Goes to show what I know. I finally poked my head out at 11.30 to see a blanket of snow and a hammering wind heading south - a tailwind! What a difference that made, the ride became incredibly enjoyable, even the bland scenery excited me and I arrived just after 3.

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Tom had been invited to stay with John and Debbie’s family and I joined him (he had hitched ahead remember?). Just an incredibly friendly family. We stayed for 2 days, eating great food and soaking up homeliness for a while. I washed all my clothes, along with the MP3 player in my jumper pocket (amazingly after a while above the fire it worked again) and we had our own beds for our stay. And when we did leave we were sent off with trail mix, sandwiches, dried fruit and homemade bison jerky.

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Tom got a ride 150km down the road, with his knee a continuing problem (he thinks he will have to hitch all the way to Seattle) and I headed to Jennifer’s house (a couchsurfer) for one more night here, not yet ready to hit the road again. I have just looked at the forecast and will be getting more headwinds for a few days. For anyone that isn’t a cyclist, I struggle to explain just how much the wind matters. Lance Armstrong says that after one training ride his support car driver said “man, that headwind must have really got to you” but Lance hadn’t even noticed it and replied “what headwind?” Well, when Tom asked me a similar question I replied “it was a fucking bitch whore”. Lance is a liar, I tell the truth.

ride 1

We woke up on the 9th outside a lodge at Contact Creek. My toes were numb from where they push my sleeping bag against the end of my tent. It had been 9 below over night. The cold wasn’t doing Tom’s continuing knee troubles any good either, he was now forced to go slow and so he headed off while I stayed in the warmth of the lodge. The physical aspect of cycling isn’t mentally demanding and so my mind often wanders off, I don’t try and guide it but rather watch as if viewing some crap TV channel. And so I nearly missed the herd of 40 wood bison at the side of the road. When I did spot them I slowed right down to get a better look. A few of them looked back. One stood up and began to wander away, then 4 or 5 others followed him and then all 40 were in a full stampede down the road. I decided to let them make some ground and settle down again, but 2 miles later I could see them still charging and since I would have to pass them anyway I figured I might as well get it over with. I started to gain on them as they were climbing a hill. They were in single file just off the left edge of the road, me as close to the right edge as I could get. The bison were traveling at 20 mph, each one weighing a tonne or more. As I passed them one by one I was terrified that one might suddenly choose to cross the road - as they sometimes did - and close the precious 4 metre gap, I was exhausted from now 5 miles of continuous exertion, I felt absolute awe for the animals, displaying their full power for me, the only witness, almost a part of the charge with the wild, strong, powerful animals thundering down the road, I was wishing there was someone to take this photo - the bison, tongues hanging from their mouths, puffs of air visible from their mouths and nostrils and me also breathing hard, sagging over the handlebars, looking terrified. I slowly reached the front of the pack, the leaders now reaching 23mph and then had the lead. I kept my pace as long as I could to create a gap and was surprised when I turned to see them still coming. It seemed that none of them were sure what they were running from or to, the followers just knew to chase the leader and the leader seeing the followers still running tried to keep his lead. Now Tom was just a mile away up the road, taking a rest for his knee on a big climb, and he looked back to see me cycling hard, being chased by a herd of bison, and he got back on his bike too so we were all on the move now, cycling or running, fearing for our lives, all desperate to stop but none of us allowed, and so we continued for another 5 miles.

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rest 1

We reached the Liard Hotsprings the following day, which had been our incentive since Whitehorse, and spent 3 full days there. While basking in the heat of the alpha pool (beta was closed) we met Herb, who is THE mountain man around here and heard from him plenty of stories about bears (like the black bear that got in the hotsprings one day, killing two people and maiming another) and stories of his adventures. He also told us that the gate we had earlier climbed to get to the upper pool was locked because of a 6′8″ grizzly in the area, he said he watched us and hoped he wouldn’t have to get out of the hot water to come and find us.

It wasn’t all pleasure though, not for Tom anyway. First he had his wallet stolen (from the changing room) and then he found a squirrel had eaten a hole straight through his pannier to get to food. And then 20 miles after we left the hotsprings, Tom’s knee once more gave out and so he was forced to hitch ahead again, getting a ride to Toad River.

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ride 2

So I was cycling alone of course, stopping at a lodge to sit by their fire on the first night. The next day I had spent the first two or three hours battling a head wind, feeling miserable and then that afternoon had the most glorious ride I’ve yet had. There was one moment when I was so happy I started laughing all to myself. It was all downhill and I had a tail wind and there were lots of caribou, elk and moose, but that wasn’t it. It was when I turned a bend and started descending through a steep canyon, with peaks either side of me 1000 metres above, and the biggest mountian, the most menacing was right in front of me, still a few miles away. The road led straight to it and then disappeared, it felt like I was being funneled towards it, lured towards it, no escape from my destiny at this awesome mountian, Mount Doom. And somehow that excited me and I experienced the high I mentioned, laughing aloud for only the moose and elk and caribou and me to hear.

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rest 2

I caught Tom up in Toad River and stayed there for two days. The first was meant to be a day of rest for Tom’s knee, but he realised it wasn’t enough and would have to hitch-hike anyway. The second day was borne of lethargy and laziness. On the third night snow began to fall and by morning we had 10cm and more coming still.

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ride 3

I wasn’t at all sure that I should be cycling in it but was told the snow was there to stay anyway and so I rode out, Tom watching and then catching a lift a while later. In fact most of the road was clear, with just a few patches of snow or ice, but mostly slush. And once I cleared the slush, and the snow ceased, it became yet another incredibe ride, this time on top of mountains, first Summit Lake and then Steamboat Mountain. The climbs hard but well rewarded with the views from the tops, and as always the descents fantastic. The worst part of the 2-day ride came at night when I became convinced I could hear a bear outside my tent (though in the morning my footprints in the snow were alone).

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rest 3

Now I am in Fort Nelson, with Tom again. Tom plans to hitch one more time to give his knee a full rest, so I will meet him in Fort St. John in a few more days.

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We didn’t have far to go on the first day as we had been offered a place to stay by Ron and Suzanne and their children Abby and Orion (though I doubt the children had much say about it). So it was only about a 15 mile ride in the plummetting temperatures out to their house, where they had prepared a room for us, complete with a wood burner, which was unbelievable luxury. That evening was the first snow of the winter, which we celebrated with a snowball fight. The highlight for me was throwing a small snowball at Tom so that he felt safe to collect snow and then launching my pre-made icy monster and getting him right in the side of his head. That might be his highlight too, I’m not sure. Abby also introduced me to a new tactic I might try next time - it involves running right up to someone and then throwing the snowball at them from close range, relying on their moment’s hesitation about throwing snow at a little girl.

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The snow was gone by morning and so after pancakes we headed out east, with our next real town 300 miles away. On the way out, Orion told us “I just have to get my bag and put my coat on and put a poo on my head”, which reminded me of Tom as a child, though I didn’t know him then.

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At the end of the second day Tom’s knees were causing him grief again and so the next day we rested in a place called Teslin. We left again feeling good but within 30 miles his knees were forcing him to walk up all the hills and so he decided to hitch ahead to Watson Lake to give them a break while I caught up. The temperature dropped to -6 on the first night but fortunately I was sleeping outside a lodge and was welcomed in to sit by the fire in the morning to warm up. It was a glorious ride that day, with the frost lasting until late afternoon and I stopped for the evening in a campsite. I met William Oefelein there, and shared his fire, and had his last beer and some of his whisky. You won’t have heard of him but he’s an astronaut and he’s been in space. And I met him. He’s probably telling the same story about me.

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One other person I’d like to mention is Christopher because of his strange behaviour. I was sitting down eating a pack of Doritos and reading my book when he came to say hi. Anyway after a bit of chit chat he got into it, asking if I had read the bible. Not really listening to my answer he gave me a web address (http://www.bibletruth.com/) so I had to be a little clearer. Anyway, I got back on with the cycling, just 15 miles from Watson Lake at this point. 10 miles later Christopher was behind me in his car, he pulled up alongside me to offer me a lift (which of course I had to politely decline) and then told me that he just wanted to say “jesus really loves you and he really is real”, I said thanks and he turned round and drove back home.

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I am now back with the Bish in Watson Lake. We are both feeling well and ready to ride once more, confident that no setbacks await us. We are currently 130 miles from Liard Hot Springs, and then another 200 miles from Fort Nelson, our next target. Oh, also I’ve seen 4 moose/mooses/mice.

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We arrived in Skagway on the 22nd, just a couple of days before the final cruise ship and therefore end of tourist season there. Of course Skagway largely depends on tourism but that doesn’t mean they have to like the tourists. For example we read “25th September: a no ship day at last!” at the top of an advert for a ’scary baby photo exhibit’, promising the chance to “hang out with friends - there will be no tourists!” There is also a Heard on the Wind section in the local paper, where locals send in tousists’ quotes they have overheard. Highlights from this week were:

- “Along the panhandle, where Alaska meets Canada, do people speak both English and Canadian?”

- “So you have silver charms here? I’m looking for something that says ‘Hawaii’. You know, like a little bear or eagle, or something that really says ‘Hawaii’.”

- And from a couple who were looking at the outgoing mail slots at the post office, looking confused. One stopped in front of the Out of Town slot and said to the other “I don’t know. We’ve been here all summer”. Her partner replied “maybe we should put it in Local then?”

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The paper also had a Police Blotter. Here is a sample:

25-08 A man reported losing his wallet

26-08 A wallet was found and brought to the police department. The owner claimed it

26-08 A woman reported losing her camera

26-08 A camper found parked on the street was advised to move on

31-08 A man called and reported his cell phone lost or stolen. He was to call back with more information and never did

02-09 A man reported his bike stolen. He found it later

05-09 An officer responded to a noise complaint downtown. the noise was not found to be unreasonable

28-08 A camper was found camped at Pullen Pond directly in front of the “no camping” sign. he was advised to move on.

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For those of you not bombarded with the upcoming US election, you may not be aware that the republican McCain has nominated an Alaskan woman, Palin, as his running mate. For those of you who did know that perhaps you were unaware that Palin spent almost five years in Skagway. The paper is full of insightful stories about Palin during her stay there (from birth to nearly five years old), such as this fascinating one from a babysitter, O’Daniel: her only memory “of the pack of Heath kids” was when she made popcorn for them, and it overflowed while she went outside to check on them. “I came back and the popcorn was all over the place, I told the kids to help me pick it up if they wanted more popcorn.”

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On a tenuously related subject, I was flicking through an old copy of National Review (a magazine for the intelligent republican) and found this about Pluto: “Pluto is so far from the sun that it takes 248 years to complete one orbit”. Either you like that kind of thing or you don’t.

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Anyway, Tom and I reached Skagway and after an evening in the local brothel and a night sleeping by the train tracks (undisturbed by the police) we began our ride up to Whitehorse (where we got to from Anchorage), 180km away. The temperature was around 0 centigrade, which was a bit of a chock to us both. Another shock was that we had to climb to an elevation of 1100 metres in the first 25km. It was a slow climb but enjoyable to be back in the saddles (except for me as I have recently converted to a no padded style). At the summit it was cloudy and snowing but later in the afternoon we were riding under crystal clear skies. It was still cold but a dry cold, reminiscent of Mongolia. Also the scenery was incredible, especially as the leaves had started turning. Also, I saw a fat black bear and her cub and Tom saw a fat grizzly bear.

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The only downer was that due to the cold and shock of cycling, Tom’s knees were getting sore and so at a town (the only town) between Skagway and Whitehorse we stopped for a day’s rest, where we met and had a few beers with Elijah.

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The next day’s ride was even more glorious than the first, perhaps the most enjoyable ride on this trip yet for me. We arrived in Whitehorse that evening and have been here since. We have been befriended by the pub’s landlady and are thus protected from all the (abundant) drunks (both aggressive men and obsessive women) by her. We have also bumped into an old ‘friend’ again, who threw rocks at our tents because he objected to us being in ‘his city’. I threatened to cut off his legs.

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Tom has bought some leggings to keep his knees warm when cycling and so we will continue from here later today, although we are only going about 30km for now as we have been invited to stay with Ron just down the road.

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This is weather for long hair and a beard but alas mine is gone - in a moment where opportunity collided with a moment of doubt, I walked into a barber shop in Chicago and had them do the deed. I’m sure many are saddened by this news, disappointed and even hurt. I can only tell you that I feel it too. I feel it too.

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Mum, Dad and Sarah stayed for about a week; it was fantastic to see them all again and have some beers. But, they had to get back home, so on the 8th I left them at the airport. It was sad to say goodbye again but I’m not yet ready to go home, so they took a plane back to England and I got a ride back into the city centre pretending to be a prospective customer for the hotel ‘Browns’. The driver seemed happy to take me but explained that it was probably out of my budget.

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Actually I was planning to take a bus up to Chicago that evening and so found a bar to kill some time and brain cells. As I sat down I was invited to join Tom and Mandy. As we neared the end of our first beer they decided they liked me and so told me that the rest of the evening was on them. Later in the evening they took me to the bus station but were concerned at the number of undesirables there and so insisted that I stay the night in Mandy’s spare room. So I did, and at 5 in the morning Mandy woke me up to take me back to the station. By the time I got to Chicago I had just about cleared my hangover. I had to stay there for 2 days as the earlier trains were fully booked, so I did a spot of couchsurfing and had a look around the city. I spent one evening playing street chess. It’s really just like normal chess played on the street, non-contact and all that. It was the first time I had ever heard people trash talk over a pawn-D7, “I don’t hear you talking, it’s on you man, it’s on you man, ain’t nowhere to go, wooo, you’ve gone quiet, it’s your move bro. Move! Move!”

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The train journey back to Seattle was pretty boring really, I was drinking white russians but found no-one to share them with. One lady sat next to me for just over a day and talked for at least 18 hours of it. I could tell you all about her two sons and her daughter and how she’s just retired and so on but there’s no sense in putting you through it too.

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So, I arrived back in Seattle on the 11th, 3 days after Tom and Christa. Since I’ve been back I’ve done very little and so has Tom. Well, Tom has done a lot of fishing and claims to have caught plenty although he conveniently releases them so we never actually see the sea monsters he hooks. We are again staying with Christa, Carley and Laura. Christa is Tom’s girlfriend but don’t tell anyone. Christa insists that I tell you that she is amazing; she is amazing.

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Tonight I am cycling up to Bellingham once more. Tom is following me up on Friday and that afternoon we will take the ferry back up to Skagway to then get to Whitehorse. Tom has been for a bike set up and then been on a long ride without any effects on his ankle. So, this time next week, if all has gone well, the long ride south will continue.

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The water was 81 degrees farenheit (27 centigrade) so wetsuits were not required. Mostly I tried to find a clear space to swim in but contact was inevitable. It tended to be hands grabbing feet but on one occassion I caught up to a gentleman that must have been swimming with his legs slightly apart for the first I knew of his presence, and he of mine, was when I stroked his balls with my fingertips. Our course took us upstream for the first kilometre or so, we then turned and swam the remaining 2.5km slightly downstream. I happened to be keeping a tally and so know that I urinated 8 times during the swim, which is more from habit than necessity. In hindsight it can’t have been particularly nice for whoever was behind me at the time but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one doing it and must have been through some warm patches myself. Other than feeling bloated early on I truly enjoyed the first leg and exited the water after one hour thirty two minutes still feeling fantastic. Allowing for the staggered start, I was in 1445th place of 1975.

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I had planned on walking through transition as I had been advised to, but everyone else was running and I didn’t want to look stupid so when it came to it I ran too. I entered the changing tent and put on my cycling gear, then found my bike and wheeled it out to the bike start. I was riding a bike I had borrowed from a guy called Mike, I was also using a new type of cleat for the first time and so for the first few miles was convincing myself that everything was set up horribly and that at some point I was going to have to get off and change it. But I soon got comfortable and settled into a good pace. With a late start and a relatively slow swim I was a long way back when I started the ride but I knew it would be my strongest leg and I found myself passing a lot of bikes and I loved it every time. By this stage everyone had their race bib on their backs with their name and number which meant that someone passing could call the person in front by name to make room. I was also able to tell Jen that she looked great and mutter profanities at Jim when he snotted over his shoulder and sprayed me. Incidentally, my bib number read John 317, which as all fellow bible scholars will know refers to ”For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.” I had forgotten to find suncream in the transition and so had to call for some through my first aid station. I hated having to stop the bike and in my panic smeared sunblock all over my sunglasses having forgotten to take them off my face. I hurriedly wiped most of it off with toilet paper and began cycling again.

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Most supporters were congregated at a spot on the LaGrange Loop. I knew Mum, Dad, Sarah, Tom and Christa would all be there and wanted to make eye contact. But as we approached I heard the cheer of the crowd and felt a burst of adrenaline. Without really meaning to I accelerated to over 30mph and  moved out on to the wrong side of the road to overtake a group of cyclists. I didn’t see anyone I knew and soon noticed my heart rate had gone over 175. I then hit a small headwind and slowed my pace and experienced my first low of the race.

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I was eating a gel pack every 20 minutes and drinking a gatorade each 30 minutes. Inevitably my bladder began filling up and at about mile 40 I made the decision that I would save time by pissing myself on the bike. This is a surprisingly hard thing to do. It’s not really the position that causes problems but the engrained reluctance to go with your shorts on, especially with lots of people around. In the end it took 20 minutes and a number of false starts to get the job done. I realised too late that I didn’t have any water to pour over myself and had to cycle a further 10 miles before I could grab some, by which time my socks were yellow. I started my second lap of the ride and collected my “special needs bag” which contained a ham sandwich. It had no appeal to me whatsoever but the hotel had charged $15 to make it the night before so I felt compelled to at least give it a try. One soggy mouthful was enough to send the remainder flying into a hedge, unfortunately at that moment I was being followed by a race official and was shown a yellow card for littering (it was a fair cop) which meant I would have to spend 2 minutes in a penalty tent later in the race. The thought of losing the time I had worked hard to make up sped me up once more. There were a few accidents on the course and at one point I was drafting behind an ambulance, unsure if I was breaking any rules but unwilling to slow down. I saw my family in the crowds the second time through the LaGrange Loop, which was a real boost as I entered the last 40 miles of the bike leg. A short while later I saw Tom near some trees and yelled to him that I had wet myself and he gave me the thumbs up. Having mentioned it to Tom I needed to go again and so for a second time pissed myself on the bike, with no difficulty this time. As I neared the end of the bike I knew I had to super-hydrate myself in preperation for the run so I started taking on a lot of gatorade but seemed to overdo it and felt bloated for the final 20 miles back into Louisville. I finished the bike leg in 6 hours 18 minutes, which moved me up to 838th place overall.

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I changed to my running shorts and luckily had fresh white socks to replace my yellow ones, got sprayed with sunscreen and made my way onto the running course. The time was about 15:40 and with the 17 hour limit being from the final starter I knew I had about 9 hours to complete the run, which I was confident I would do. I felt massively bloated however and so wasn’t smiling a lot; actually though I was pretty happy because my legs felt fine and I knew the bloatedness would go with time (I was partly right, it did ease but never left me). I set out at a slow pace (12 minute miles) unaware that I would only slow down further from there. I hadn’t felt the heat too much on the bike ride but as I began the run the full shock of it hit me suddenly (93 farenheit, 34 celcius). I vowed right then to get rid of my beard and hair at the first opportunity and took to pouring water over myself at every chance in the meantime. I was still unable to bear swallowing anything much and so covered the first 40 minutes or so with little to drink. The fresh leg feeling soon evaporated leaving me with two wooden pegs to run on. I began to walk through each aid station (located each mile) to take on water and cool down, and then concentrated on nothing more than running to the next one. My appetite for gels had waned fast and so I had to force down a gel at every other aid station and drank a mixture of gatorade, water and flat coke. I poured water over my head at every station and sometimes gatorade by mistake. By the next station I was always bone dry again. I reached the penalty tent after 8 miles and gratefully took my two minute “punishment”. I was averaging almost 16 minute miles by this point, I would pick out someone walking ahead of me as I ran and focus on overtaking them, it normally took me half a mile mile to gain a few hundred yards. Focusing on one mile at a time, with people shouting “good job!” at me every minute or so, and “run Forrest run!” once in a while, and “it’s Jesus!” and “nice beard!” and “that’s got to be hot under there!” and “Tom Hanks!” and “holy shit!” making an appearance, I made it through to mile 14 and the end of the first lap. Volunteers called ”not far now” to me, unaware that I wasn’t even half way yet. I did not see my family or Tom and Christa in the crowds on the corner though I knew they were there. I semi-jokingly thought about taking the finishing route but instead turned right, away from the cheering crowd and back up the road, away from the lights, into the dark. This half-way low has been talked about much by others and knowing to expect it was one of the few things that made it bearable.

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It is important, I had read, to be nice to yourself on the course and so when I reached mile 16 I decided not to hate myself for having to stop for a couple of minutes. I couldn’t run each mile anymore so while I really hated doing it - it was horrible to have to resign to it - I had to walk half of each mile between stations. I walked fast and was able to run faster after the break so this method actually increased my average speed to just over 15 minute miles. Over the run I was constantly setting new goals and couldn’t help working out what average speed I would need despite getting it wrong each time from my initial assumption that 6×4=26. I went from trying to get an official finish to beating midnight, to breaking 16 hours, to beating 11 O’clock, to breaking 15 hours, to beating 10 O’clock. Then back to 15 hours on a low, then back to 10 O’clock after a gel. I was getting pissed off at myself for having nothing more interesting to think about but couldn’t stop doing it. Over the last 6 miles my goal became firm in trying to beat 10 O’clock, which meant better than 15 minute miles (don’t compare that to Olympic athletes please). At 26 miles I was still on course and broke into a real run, near the finish I was veritably galloping and I crossed the line at speed with a smile, arms up as if I had enjoyed the whole thing. In truth I was massively relieved and delighted to get there before 10 O’clock. I was led out by a concerned volunteer to get a hug from my parents and sister and then join the queue for a massage. My run took me 6 hours 14 minutes, perilously close to the dreaded negative split (where the run takes longer than the bike), leaving me as the 1117th (or 1120th) of 1788 finishers (depending if you look here or here) in a time of 14:16:56. The announcer announced “John Mitchell you are Mountainman. You are Ironman”.

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The book was really this one by Jim Taylor. In his helpful “wrong reasons” section he lets me know that I could be participating simply to fill a void in my life. I may have entered for an anticipated increase in respect and acceptance from others, hoping to increase my popularity with women. I may have entered on the notion that ‘more is better’ but I should know that there is always a greater challenge and that the bar can be set too high. I may be doing an ironman with the desire to answer some of my life’s questions, but I should be aware that though I may find meaning, satisfaction and joy, answers will probably elude me. Jim Taylor may have some good points but dresses them up very badly and the crap about “answers” is just silly; also, why does he say things like “increase popularity with women” when he means “get laid more often”?

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Overall it seems that my training hasn’t been textbook. Probably the best training I’ve done was my ride to Nordkapp, although it was over a year ago now so I’m not sure it really helps that much. I have managed to do a fair amount of swimming though, and can now swim over a mile. I had thought it would be easy to train while Tom and I were riding but found that even when I felt good, and even after a couple of days’ rest after cycling, my legs would still be incredibly tired, which made running almost impossible. Of course I was doing plenty of cycling back then but haven’t really done much since we got back from the Yukon so I hope that holds up for me. The great news though is that Mike from Indianapolis is very generously lending me his incredibly nice bike for the event. It is about 1.5kg compared to my tourer’s 15kg. I am hoping the high from this improvement will last 114 miles. I gave up drinking 4 days ago, although had a relapse 2 days ago. I decided to go for a long run on Monday (my previous longest was 13 miles and I panicked) and am still suffering for it today. I had read that it is very important to use a heart rate monitor for training and the event and so bought one a while back but left the monitor part in Tok so now I go by feel. According to Jim, this is a very poor strategy.

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Here’s other stuff that happened. Tom and I went to a wicked wedding on Camano Island. We are now living with Christa, Carley, Laura and Alexandra in Seattle on the edge of Lake Washington. We have been swimming every day and most nights. And last night we went to see Radiohead, which was incredibly awesome.

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Our plan was to take the ferry as far as Bellingham but to try and get very cheap stowaway tickets. We were doing frightfully well with our plan and would have succeeded is it wasn’t for those pesky authorititave people that made us pay for the entire journey. The ferry was much quieter and more subdued than our journey north. Most of the people on board were pissed off to be returning back to work after a holiday in Alaska, taking their depression out on the kids through the medium of complaints to the captain, so that by Bellingham children were banned from running, talking loudly, using remote-controlled cars and playing hide and seek.

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We arrived in Bellingham on the 25th. On our way to Anarchortes (for a ferry out to Salt Spring Island) we stopped to camp in a park and met a very friendly group that invited us to join their feast, leaving us with the leftover pizza for breakfast. (It was a specific kind of group that kept assuring us that God was looking kindly on us and taking care of us). Once more we were woken in the morning by a guard to kindly tell us that we had unfortunately happened to sleep in a place prohibitive of sleeping. We gave the reply demanded of us that we hadn’t realised, thanks for letting us know and where is the nearest shop and then we were on our way.

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On Salt Spring Tom and I have been staying with Vida, Sam, Krista and Corbin and have been treated far better that we deserve. We have been swimming in the lakes around the island (not literally around, that’s the sea) and I’ve been trying to come to terms with the looming ironman (4 weeks) and so have been for a few panicked runs.

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It is fun to be back on the island, especially with my new-found fame. Yesterday morning Tom left for Seattle where he will be staying with friends; I will follow him down in about a week.

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Anyway, the doctor said Tom should rest it for a week, which was highly predictable. In fact I doubt he listened to what Tom even said, he just knows that when he says “give it a week’s rest” he gets paid $60. So we have been thinking about our options, and here they are.

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First, here are the starting blocks.

-We are currently in Whitehorse.

-I have entered an ironman in Kentucky that I must compete in. Therefore I have to get to Seattle by the 23rd August so that I can take a train across from there.

-At the moment we are cycling the entire distance from Alaska to Venezuela.

-Our overall trip is around the world by train, bicycle and boat.

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Now here are the problems.

-Seattle is 2000 miles away.

-A week’s rest may not do much and so probably a longer rest on Tom’s ankle would be better.

-Today is the 23rd August, minus the minimum week’s rest leaves 4 weeks.

-Given the need to not aggrevate the Achilles tendon cycling 2000 miles in 4 weeks is not a good idea.

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Here are our options.

1) Tom rests his ankle here in Whitehorse for three or four weeks while I cycle ahead to Seattle. While I am messing about with the triathlon Tom catches up, we regroup in Seattle and carry on.

2) Tom and I wait in Whitehorse for two weeks. We then cycle at a modest pace south and when time becomes a push hitch-hike the remaining distance to Seattle. After returning from Kentucky we hitch back to where we got to and carry on.

3) We take a ferry from here (Skagway) back to Seattle. Tom rests there while I train. After Kentucky we go back to Skagway, then Whitehorse and continue our trip.

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More about the ideas.

-If we have to come back up to Whitehorse after Kentucky (mid-September) then we will be cycling down the coast during winter and into central America in the summer. This doesn’t seem sensible although we don’t really know why.

-If Tom tries to cycle too much before his ankle heals (sorry) properly then it could be bad, although we don’t really know what kind of bad. 

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At the moment we haven’t decided what is the best option but we’re going to have a beer now and talk them through. If anyone has a good idea then feel free to let us know.

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So we decided to give it a good rest and were fortunate to meet Mike and Colleen, who invited us to stay at their house during the recovery. So that’s pretty much what’s happened for the last week. Tom’s become an Xbox 360 addict. I’ve read two crap books. We’ve sneaked into the local pool a few times. We’ve been to the cinema. I went for a run (ironman in 6 weeks). We bought two new inner tyres. Tom’s creaking saddle may have been fixed. I wish I had something more to tell.

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Tomorrow morning we will be back on the bikes again. The next sizeable town is Watson Lake. It’s about 300 miles away and will be our next stop. We’ve both seen black bears now and are hoping for grizzlies: as a wise man once told a guy that told us “you don’t have to outrun the bear, just outrun your friend.”

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After a break in Glennallen we rode up to Tok, which was our most northerly stop in the Americas. Another day’s rest and we were ready to head to the Canadian border. It happened to be the fourth of July but neither Tom nor I are American and so we weren’t too bothered about missing the celebrations. We did get to ride down the parade route just ahead of the parade though and enjoyed wishing people a “happy fourth of July” in our English (redcoat) accents. We were making pretty good progress until Tom got a puncture (his third in four days). Unfortunately we had elected not to cycle the extra four-mile detour from Glennallen to get a new inner and as the puncture was on the valve we couldn’t fix it. We messed around for about two hours in vain with patches and gaffa tape and then saw two cyclists approaching. They gave us a new inner, which we were grateful for even though it was the wrong size. Then Tom put three holes in it while trying to force it on his wheel. So we then had to fix the new punctures with used patches from the other tyre and after another couple of hours finally managed to finish our shabby job. Overall it was a five hour job to sort out a flat, not bad. We were determined to push long distances but were lured into a bar in Northway by the promise of cold beer. Northway is a very small, very inbred community that welcomed us warmly once they found out we were Australian and not English. We celebrated independence with them over our warm beers until the family feud started (which involved everybody but us).

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We crossed into Yukon territory, Canada, yesterday morning and cycled through incredible scenery, stopping in Beaver Creek for dinner, which was bought for us by a great couple that had enjoyed hearing about our trip. After dinner we cycled on through some pretty miserable weather, which has continued today with a consistent headwind, sometimes gusting strongly enough to bring me to a near-standstill.

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We’ve been pushing some pretty long days so far and it has been a shock to both of us (though I feel especially sorry for myself with the additional element of breaking in a new saddle). Soon we will be in Whitehorse where we plan to have a decent break and drink some beer.

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Update: 08/07

I just read through the blog myself and noticed how very flat it sounds. The tone is directly correlated to the ride. Earlier that day Tom’s achilles tendon had started to ache - because we were about 40 miles from anywhere and not wanting to agrevate it he hitched a ride ahead to Haines Junction (for concerned parents it is not the tendon that snapped a few years ago and he has seen a doctor and it should be OK so long as he lowers his saddle and rests a couple of days). So I was then riding alone into the headwind. I found a computer to write the blog on after 50 miles, and having just found out that a bag of Haribo would cost me eight dollars. I clearly struggled to muster much enthusiasm at the time, even for the guy that bought our dinner, which was really quite fantabulolistic of him. I left without Haribo at 11pm and cycled for another three and a half hours, covering a miserable 25 miles. Luckily the next day was much easier and by early afternoon I had caught Tom up in Haines Junction. So, Tom is now resting here a couple of days and will then hitch back up the road so that he can complete the ride. That means I’ll get a few days here to catch up on my beer intake, which is nice.

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There is no direct ferry to Anchorage and so we got a ticket to Ketchican. We were sleeping out on deck and with our case of beers and two litres of rum made quick friends. Among the group we made were Andy, Steve, Nick, Kellie, Kate, Rochelle, Rishana, Bill and Amanda. That’s not to say that everyone liked us. For example there was the guy that would have preferred if we could have been a little quieter or further away, and he felt that strongly because one time he said “I’ll fuck you up” (sorry mum but it is true). There was also the guy who objected to my objection to his assertion that there is no such thing as an atheist. He was further peturbed at my refusal to read the book of John and walked out in a huff at the mention of evolution. Then we heard through the grapevine that we were officially on our third strike, although by then we had already passed Ketchican anyway and so were traveling for free. Our second strike had come when we were caught drinking alcohol, although forutnately we had in fact just finished the rum and the last of the beers so the guards probably felt foolish taking away our empties.

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Tom and I got off the ferry in Juneau, and followed some of our new friends to a campsite. It was still early in the morning and so we hiked up to Mendenhall Glacier, which was awesome. I think we had hotdogs for tea that night and were back on the ferry the next afternoon. Both ferry journeys were spectacular and we saw lots of whales and dolphins, including killer whales (which are actually false killer whales here, which are actually dolphins anyway). Of course I lost my battery charger on the last ferry and so wasn’t taking any photos of them; Tom was struggling with the delay on his camera and has a number of cracking shots of the waves.

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We arrived in Whittier this morning, which is as close as you can get to Anchorage on the ferries. We had been told repeatedly that bikes weren’t allowed in the tunnel between Whittier and Anchorage but it got annoying and so we didn’t listen anymore. The only train leaves once a day, we would have had to have waited 12 hours for it and paid $80 each and anyway we didn’t want to. Just as we were leaving an Australian made one last attempt to refrain us, he told us it was absolubtly forbidden, impossible. We asked him if there were guards and he was silenced. We rode, following the motorcyclists, steering to the right of the CCTV camera.

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Of course the answer is yes there are guards, and about 80 CCTV cameras. On arriving on the other side of the tunnel we were greeted with a flashing light, then taken in silence to the “no cyclists” sign. We responded with silence, unsure really. The guard then said “it doesn’t matter, you made it through OK”. I don’t think we gave that Aussie our website address but if we did - told you so.

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So today we rode in to Anchorage, it was a great ride and we had a huge tail wind the entire way. We plan to stay here for another day and then will begin our ride. Mike and Courtney (see paragraph 1) are getting married in August and invited Tom and me to the wedding. It is on August 9th and is near Seattle. We really hope to make it, which will be about 2,200 miles in 6 weeks. The ironman is in 9 weeks.

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One of the highlights of my stay was definitely not the four consecutive days picking rocks out of a field. On top of the four mentioned rock-picking days were another three rock-picking days. It’s not a very fun way to spend a day and is only barely tolerable once you’ve drunk a few beers. A close second last was the day I spent picking sticks off a bank. 150 years ago some Scottish bloke brought over three seeds of ‘broom’ to remind him of home. The seeds were so successful that they have spread to southern Alaska and northern California; those three seeds have created well over a week of work for me here on Salt Spring. After a while I became quite narcissistic about it, traveling great distances to kill another plant. Anyway, yesterday was my last day there. I was working there for five weeks, the good part is that I made $80,000. Did I mention what we grow there?

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One day a little while ago I joined the Salt Spring critical mass ride. I was told off in the early stages for cycling too far out in to the road. Then we went down a big hill and had to brake all the way down so as not to come out of single file. People here have to be a little more courteous because the driver behind them is probably a friend or a sister or a wife, or quite plausibly all three. There were about 20 cyclists on the ride, which is a better turn out than on the Tokyo ride. Back when Tom and I were in California we had met a guy called Luke, who gave us a copy of Into the Wild, which I never got to read, which is a good story in itself but wait, there’s more. Luke was on the critical mass ride here on Salt Spring. He told me that after talking to Tom and me in San Fran he decided he wanted to push the limits of human endurance in a similar way and has just bought his bike ready for a year-long trip.

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Last monday was the inaugural swim around the island. It was a swimming event around a small island from one of the beaches on this island. I was the event coordinator as well as the only competitor. It probably says something about the island that my swim was deemed worthy of an article in the local paper (out tomorrow). Other than a couple of swims in lakes on the island and a small amount of cycling that was my only training since Vancouver. The ironman is in 10 weeks now, I am a little nervous.

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Tom and I are finally getting a ferry up to Alaska on the 20th. If all goes well then we will be in Alaska on the 26th and on the road soon after. I’m very excited to get going again, although I really love Salt Spring. Work is work and will never be a passion for me but I have a cool group of friends here now. Tonight is the last supper, I’m going for the arms out pose for photos.

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Neil recently acquired 93 acres on Salt Spring Island . At the moment he lives in a caravan, while I sleep in the shed behind the VW beetle. He plans to turn half an acre in to an organic crop this year, so we have been working the land. We have also been clearing and landscaping about 2 acres of land around where his house is soon to be. That’s why there are photos of me driving an excavator, although that was just a publicity stunt. The real driver later had to rearrange the log piles and I went back to my trusty rake for the remainder of the afternoon.

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So I have been working here for 2 weeks now. The plan had been for Tom and I to take a ferry to Alaska from Bellingham on the 23rd of this month. However, Tom had a mishap in Seattle, pouring a pan of boiling water and al dente pasta on his arm. To complicate things, the burns then got infected and so he will have to stay in town a little longer he says. This is either to have the dressing changed or to better reap sympathy.

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Thus, I will be staying on Salt Spring a little longer. The next ferry is not until June 20th but Tom says he may be able to get us on a tug all the way to Anchorage in early June. So, with my increased time on the island, perhaps I will accept my invitation to join the island’s chess club. Or perhaps not, it does clash with my poker night after all. It is just Neil and me on the farm but we have a pretty decent group of friends now and so life here is great. Plus, of course, I am earning money at last.

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There have been a string of things keeping me here, most recently the bike shop (the one that replaced my position with someone better) took ages to get my parts i, and even then failed to get some of it. And then I had to wait for my cold-weather clothes to be sent back out in preperation for Alaska. They arrived here this morning and in all probability I will be cycling back out of Canada tomorrow morning. The only thing that might stop me is the chance of a few days work on an organic vegetable farm, but I doubt it will come through.

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Since I left Cici’s I have been camping in various spots around the city. Typically I would look for the most inconspicuous spot possible but sometimes it’s fun to not do it that way. On Saturday night I left a bar in the wee hours with a nice warm beer coat on. As I cycled towards a park, I found a small hillock in the middle of a very nice (posh) part of Vancouver. It was just too inviting and so that night I slept in my little green castle on the top of the hill, overlooking the marina. Another night I was trying to be less conspicuous and ended up in my bivi just inside a hedge: I was woken up as a mower passed extremely close to me. Another night I slept in the middle of a roundabout (or as near to one as it comes in Canada). Another night I was hidden by the branches of a weeping willow. Another night I didn’t bother sleeping and stayed up reading ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’, which is a very good book.

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Unfortunately my brother’s friend (inconsiderately) moved to Colorado and so I no longer have someone to visit in the San Juans. So, I plan to cycle back to Seattle, stopping in Bellingham on the way. I’m almost as excited about leaving for Alaska now as I was about leaving for Newcastle last April.

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This morning I cycled the three hours back to the north shore because this is where my new bike parts are coming in to. Hopefully I will be able to make my bike new and beautiful again, collect all my things from the places I’ve left them in Vancouver, and be ready to leave here by tomorrow afternoon. I am going to cycle back down to the states, then I’m not sure where yet. I could head back to Seattle for a couple of weeks, or (more appealingly) go and stay with my brother’s friend, Peta, in the San Juan islands.

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Since my appearance at Gage’s lecture I received a number of emails from attendees who disaproved of me and then was proverbially forcibly removed from their email list. I know it’s for the best, the long-distance would have been a strain and it could never have worked, but it still hurts.

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Who wants to learn? Okay, here are a few fun facts from a book I just read:
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Humans have 4 nostrils. The highest mountain we know of is on Mars; the tallest one on Earth is in Hawaii (Everest is the highest on Earth). The largest living thing is a mushroom in Oregon. No man-made artefacts can be seen from the moon. The telephone was invented by Antonio Meucci. (Bell happened to work in the lab where Meucci’s sketches and models were later sent; the models and sketches mysteriously disappeared.) Kilts, bagpipes, whisky, haggis, tartan and porridge are all from somewhere other than Scotland. Chicken tikka masala was invented in Glasgow. It is Britain’s most popular dish; in a recent survey of different CTM recipes, the only common ingredient was chicken. The English invented champagne. And the guillotine. And baseball, although US baseball authorities were so paranoid of this fact that in 1907 they fraudulently invented a US inventor in Abner Doubleday. Mary Antoinette never said ‘let them eat cake’. Thomas Crapper sadly did not invent the flush toilet. The moon smells like gunpowder. Earth has seven moons. Marmite has been suggested as a solution to the Arab-Israeli conflict in the middle east. The largest diamond we know of is ten billion trillion trillion carats; it is eight light years away in the star ‘Lucy’. This nickname ’Lucy’ came from the Beatles’ song, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, which was named after a picture drawn by John Lennon’s son of his friend Lucy Richardson. The speed of light varies, in 2000 scientists brought light to a complete standstill. The majority of tigers live in the USA. The European earwig has two penises incase one snaps off. Napoleon was once forced to retreat by rabbits. You are more likely to die from an asteroid impact (1/6,000,000) than from being struck by lightening (1/10,000,000). According to the newest translation, the number of the beast is 616; this will upset Russians who renamed the 666 bus route as route 616. The universe is beige. Mars is butterscotch (-coloured). Water is blue. Your brain is pink. There is no word for ‘brown’ in Welsh. Light is invisible. Chameleons don’t change colour to blend with the background (changes reflect emotional states). Nome in Alaska is so called after a ship’s officer scribbled ‘Name?’ next to a point on the map, which was later mis-read. Edison invented the word ‘hello’. The hottest part of a chilli is in the central membrane, not the seeds. The hottest chilli known of is from Dorset, called the ‘Naga’. The crack of a whip is created as the tip breaks the sound barrier, making the whip the first man-made object to reach this speed. If a cat falls from a window, it has a better chance of survival if this window is on the 7th floor or higher. Dogs don’t mate ‘doggy style’, this is a dominance gesture, they mate tail to tail. Stomach ulcers are caused by a bacteria, not stress or spicy food. Henry the black was the first man to circumnavigate the globe. The flat Earth theory is fairly modern, originating in the nineteenth century; today’s International Flat Earth Society claims NASA’s lunar landings are hoaxes. Columbus thought Earth was a quarter of its size and pear shaped, he died convinced he had reached Asia. Columbus’ preferred nickname for himself was Colon. Teflon was discovered by Roy Plunkett, in no way associated with NASA. Hitler was not a vegetarian, nor was he an atheist. Shrimps are the loudest things in the ocean. There’s no such thing as a panther. Red does not bother a bull, but movement does. Today’s carrots are orange because we eat a type patriotically bred in Holland to match the Dutch Royal House of Orange; the first carrots eaten by humans were purple on the outside and yellow on the inside. St. Nicholas, among other things, is the patron saint of murderers. Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer is female. The late elephant bird of Madagascar layed an egg nine litres in volume. Mosquitoes have killed around 45 billion people; marmots have killed over a billion. Marco Polo, from Croatia, almost certainly did not bring pasta back from Asia. The United States of America (named after Richard Ameryk) has 46 states.

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Five days ago was 4 - 20, a special occassion and called Canada day by some. 4 - 20 comes but once a year and twice a day. It’s celebration is strictly observed my many. I recommend people in England looking it up and writing it in for next year.

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One evening I cycled in to the city centre to go to a lecture. (It was given by Richard Gage, who is an architect that promotes the conspiracy theory about 9/11. I was in a minority - Gage: “who here still believes the official theory, put your hands up high” [my hand the only one up high out of a room of 450 people]. Gage: ”are you taking the piss?” Me: “No”. It was quite good fun to be so outspoken.) There were some friendly people there so I went out for some beers afterwards. At about 1am I returned to my secret spot, the place I always locked my bike when I was in the city centre. Only instead of my bike there was a homeless guy. I wasn’t laughing this time.

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After about an hour I managed to find a security guard who let me in to the carpark, to my incredible relief my bike was in there. It could have been moved by security but the guard knew nothing about it and suggested that a thief had moved it there in the evening and were planning to collect it in a van when the carpark opened in the morning. I actually didn’t care who had moved it, I checked it over (it was fine) and cycled home on an incredible high, waking up all the residents in Kitsilano.

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Tom and I left my house on the April 23rd last year - we’ve been a year away from home and are both still alive, which is quite good. So, I am still in Vancouver but plan to leave pretty soon, heading back to Bellingham, the San Juan islands, Vancouver Island, Seattle or pretty much anywhere. I actually quite like Vancouver as cities go but am getting pretty restless now. I looked up the ferries and Tom and I should be able to take a ferry to Alaska on the 23rd of May, I am very excited.

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As you know, Tom has been earning some money in Seattle while I came up to Vancouver to do the same thing here. But I have been fairly unsuccessful in my attempts and so while Tom will be eating at restaurants on our next leg, I will be eating road-kill. I have used my abundant free time up here to begin my ironman training. I swim most days at the local pool and have been running and cycling around the north shore. My bike computer says that I’ve nearly covered 5000 miles now since home and the bike doesn’t sound as good as it once did. So, on Monday I’m going to the bike shop to fit a new chain, front rings, rear rings, a new gear lever, new tyres, new bar tape, new brakes, a new bottle cage and a new saddle. Most of these replacements were inevitable but needing a new saddle is not good news. The leather saddles we started with are meant to last for life but mine broke a while ago so it is no longer moulded to a perfect fit. Long-term, a new saddle will be an improvement but I will have to break it in from scratch again, which is a very uncomfortable process.

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Life has been very enjoyable in Vancouver, and Brent and Denise have been incredible hosts to me. With my continued failure to find work, I have had little restriction on how I spend my time. So, I have made the most of my new library membership and read some pretty good books along with a couple of quite bad ones. I entered a short story competition with a piece about a bearded tramp but didn’t win (yet). I played golf at the seaside par three course and got a hole in one on the challenging 70-yard third. I commiserated with the rest of Vancouver when the Canucks failed to make the playoffs. I went to a lecture on aliens, UFOs, crop circles and the new world order, I found it very amusing, which probably wasn’t the point. I engaged in prolonged debate against the 9/11 conspiracy movement - among many other accusations, I am suspected of being a government agent.

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My plan now is head back to Seattle fairly soon in a last ditch effort to find some work before Tom and I head north.

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Solace and refuge came from Denise and Brent, who are wonderful people and good friends of my parents. They generously took me in on March 2nd and I have been staying with them since. On my birthday they gave me a book called ‘Stanley park’, which is the story of the permanent residents in Stanley Park.

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To celebrate my birthday I decided to go for a nice long bike ride, which admittedly shows a limited imagination. Still, it was a glorious day, topped off with a swim in the sea and being taken out for a meal by Denise and Brent. I also managed to arrange a job in a bike shop I passed in the afternoon.

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Work in the bike shop began the following day, I was to construct the bikes ready to go on display. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of it but two weeks later they ‘hired someone full time’ and I was surplus to requirements. So for any Canadian tax inspectors, the shop was… actually no, they kept my email address incase they need me again.

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So, I have been settling in to life on the North Shore, I have a home, a family, a membership to the local library, a membership to the local leisure centre, and used to have a job. Not bad. With my unexpected amount of time I have been starting my proper training for the ironman. Sometimes it’s fun.

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I noticed Tom hasn’t written a blog recently so I will fill you in on some details from Seattle. Tom is still in Seattle. He has trimmed his beard back pretty heavily and cut his hair. He was promoted from veg chopper to sues chef briefly and then promoted again to stripper. He is still cleaning toilets for keep at the hostel.

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Tom has had his back waxed (it was a highly entertaining experience for me and I have photos that will be on here soon) but Tom said the experience was phenominally painful and has declined to have his chest waxed. But the target was hit and so as compenstation for this failure to please we will go ahead with other challenges in its place. I hope this is OK with viewers (although I suspect many are very disappointed).

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I have no witty stories to tell, which is pretty sad. Must try harder.

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Mary Ann and Sydney had set up a spare bedroom for me and cooked spaghetti ready for my arrival. My only job was to select my beers for the evening, it was a fantastic moment of unexpected luxury. Mary Ann is also a keen cyclist and will be celebrating her birthday this year with a 7-week cycle trip across the USA. So as I left their house in the morning she joined me for the first 15 miles. She asked at one point if she was holding me up and I simply said no because I was too proud at the time to admit she was killing me with the pace. I arrived in Bellingham that afternoon after a beautiful ride up the coast, tired from my first 75-mile day since Japan.

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I really love Bellingham, I think it’s my favourite town on the trip so far, it has a mellow atmosphere, it’s surrounded by mountains and the ocean and is also home to Katie and Khale, my hosts for the next few days. It was great fun again hanging out with them and their housemates: playing frisbee, getting baked in the sun and going for hikes. I stayed for about a week before getting back on the saddle and heading to Canada.

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At the Canadian border I was interrogated about my financial situation, I told them I was flush with money but had no evidence to prove it. The guy was quite cross about it but let me though anyway. The truth is I’m really not all that flush. It’s pretty hard to spend money around either Katie or Khale and I was also given food, beer etc. by Courtney and Mike and their other housemates. Nevertheless, I managed to spend my last few dollars of cash (borrowed from Tom) in Bellingham. I think I do have some money left somewhere (although I definitely have more debt) but I don’t seem to be able to access it in any way at the moment. I have three cards, one of which was helpfully sent to Southampton after my wallet was stolen, and the other two just keep saying no. So when I reached the border I had just 16 dollars to my name, which was in my pocket, which was from Katie.

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Through the border and five miles into Canada I had my first collision. As I was approaching a set of lights, a woman in a convertible overtook me, cut infront of me to turn right, realised she couldn’t make it, panicked, slammed on her brakes, turned round, watched me ride into the back of her and shouted “watch where you’re going”. I then explained at length how she was being ridiculous, she eventually apologised, I admired my tyre mark on her car and cycled off undamaged.

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Five miles later, as I headed towards central Vancouver my attention must have been distracted because I realised just too late that I was cycling off a curb, which isn’t smart when you’re carrying a lot of weight. Soon after I heard a spoke snap.

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So here I am, I walked into Vancouver two days ago and have been camping in the park. I managed to get a new spoke for a dollar and have replaced the broken one. Then, as I was contemplating the best way to make the last 10 dollars last I (disappointingly for everybody I’m sure) finally got access to some money. So I am applying for jobs and looking for somewhere to live and things look like they’ll be OK.

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Sunday 3rd was, of course, Superbowl Sunday. It was the second most-watched programme in US TV history, beaten only by a 1983 episode of MASH. Advertising was sold at over $5 million per minute and in one of these Madonna received $10 million for a 5 second appearance. Tom and I were invited to a superbowl party to watch the game and soak up the American experience. Normally, so we were told, the game is crap but the food is great and so people just concentrate on that. But this year not only was the food fantastic, but the game, which was meant to be a whitewash, was won in the last seconds by the underdogs. To top the experience, I took a 10 dollar bet on something I didn’t understand and won it.

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Back at the hostel, life has become rather stagnant. Tom and I are still cleaning toilets for our keep. Most of the time it’s an easy job but there are the occassional ’surprises’ to liven up the work. Tom has found a job chopping veg in a ‘burlesque’ dancing club, which is actually a strip bar although he denies it. I decided against trying to find work here as my stay was meant to be fairly brief. So, I’ve been running, had political debates (they’ve just had primary elections here), played many games of Chess with Rachid, read a lot and talked to plenty of people at the hostel. But as much as I’ve enjoyed all these things I really do need to move on now and so tomorrow morning I am making my second attempt to leave Seattle, cycling north to Bellingham and then on to Vancouver.

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Really there isn’t much more to tell about the last week or two. I could tell you about one of the pub quizes we’ve gone to, and about how I only knew one answer and that Tom then overruled me on it, but it’s probably not a worthy story even for this blog. Despite the fact I just told it.

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But, seeing as the blog was short I might use a little space here for a rant that’s been building up inside me. It’s about the tipping system in the US. If you’ve been here recently then you’ll know that you are expected to tip on virtually everything you buy. You can imagine the origin of tipping, where somebody was so happy with their service that they wanted to offer an extra gift to their server. Somehow, that has gone from a one-off to common, to expected. The amount has also risen - in a bar or restaurant here, a 15 to 20% tip is typical (and expected). The place for tipping has also spread so that you now have the ‘option’ of tipping a food trolley on a train. But, to me the worst part of tipping is that it has become not only expected, but even necessary in many cases. In many cases the worker’s wage is below minimum on the expectation that they will make it up on tips, in other words tipipng is effectively a semi-optional tax, and the real benefactors are the employers. The good thing about the system is that service here really is fantastic, the negative consequence is that you can never know if someone’s doing something out of generosity, or just being helpful, or if they’re doing it to get a better tip. For example, in England, when I had a minor problem with my bike I took it to the shop, they fixed it quickly and didn’t charge me. When Tom had a minor problem here the same happened but Tom then felt compelled to offer a 5 dollar tip, because you just don’t know. It’s a truly bizarre system, where boycotting is actually an immoral response!

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As a brief extra note. Tom and I sat uselessly through another quiz tonight, without helping our team on a single question. Fortunately they were pretty good though and somehow we finished tied for the lead. The tie-breaker was on the viewing figures for the Superbowl, which I happened to know exactly having looked up the MASH thing when writing this blog earlier and so all was forgiven for our poor performance and I became the self-proclaimed hero.

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As a second brief note, today (14th) is Darwin’s 199th birthday. I met a proud Brit recently who told me of his visit to ‘the South’. While there, conversation turned to currency and so he pulled out a British tenner and said ‘that’s a real note’ (OK, so he was very proud). But then a woman looked at the man on the back of the note (Darwin) and exclaimed - hysterically so I was told - ”that is the single most evil man in the history of this world”.