Day 410
Hope
We had been at Coady's Cabana for nearly 2 weeks. Tom was formulating plans to transform the garden by building a stream to weave through the grounds. Even I had been promoted, I now had a pair of secateurs and had begun the task of deadheading. There was just so much to do. Jane started to discuss which areas were up for redesign. We were making friends. Jane and Matt needed house sitters for winter. Penticton itself is just so beautiful. One visitor casually mentioned when she arrived at Coady’s she had planned to stay 2 days but only left after 18 months. We needed to be strong, we needed to return to the road.
So, on the hottest day of the year so far, we did just that. Matt had suggested we leave our bags, ride to Princeton and he’d pick us up for one more night of comfort. He would drop us back there in the morning. It made sense. We had some major hills to climb, why make it harder than it need be? The easier option though was never an option for us and so the following morning we left on fully loaded bikes hopeful that the day wouldn’t be too tough.
We left just after 7am and it was already 21 degrees. We felt strong though and ready for the challenge. Our plan was to ride the disused Kettle Valley Railway as far as we could. Built in 1915 It had originally run all the way to Hope, 150 miles away, but a storm in 2021 had damaged a large section at Princeton, in Penticton a good few miles had long disappeared under concrete, and 16km at Summerland was still in use with a steam train offering scenic tours. So we rode on quiet back roads, deep sandy sections on the KVR and gravel roads. It was always up. It was hot, by late morning the temperature was in the low 40s. This was going to be tough. At Summerland Station we stopped to refill our water bottles and got chatting to Mat Duffus, a local musician. He immediately offered to treat us by paying for 2 tickets on the steam train. We were so tempted but time was getting on. He kindly played his guitar and sang for us. Clutching one of his CD’s we reluctantly returned to the hills.
It was brutal. The heat was making every turn of the pedals twice as hard. The roads were steep, the easier gradient of the KVR harder to ride due to the surface, sand, so deep in places it was hard to stay upright. Small sections had been damaged by landslides so we had to ride through streams to bypass the rocks, and that relentless heat. What were we doing? At one point I spotted a black bear strolling towards us, even when it stood on its hind legs refusing to leave the trail, I was too exhausted to summon up the energy to be scared. Tom waved his tin of bear spray and I mumbled a few words of my bear song and he eventually sauntered into the trees, clearly just as fed up with this heat as us. On we went.
After over 4 hours of riding, we had covered only 20 miles. Carla who had ridden this section last week had found a great camp spot at Link Lake, another 22 miles away, neither of us were sure we’d make it. We stopped for an afternoon nap, a wolf casually strolled by, but no photos, we simply couldn’t spare the energy to pick up the camera. Tom said we must stop. There were plenty of wild camp options but I turned stubborn. If Carla could do 42 miles so could we. There was the added attraction of a pitch by the lake too. Finally, at 7pm we neared Link Lake, just one more mile to go. We stopped to cook tea, we could camp here we decided. Then realised we couldn’t, the ground was covered with roses. A passer-by took pity on us. She ran the Link Lake campground. Go there she said, just 10 more minutes. She had finished for the day and asked for no fee. Exhausted we collapsed into the tent, no cooling swim or even a wash in the lake, just sleep!
The following morning, we gave up on the KVR and rode on the near deserted road for a few miles. Tom finally persuaded me to do the last few miles into Princeton on the line, it was downhill so how hard could it be? Well, it was a mixed bag, still sandy in places but not as bad as yesterday. Princeton finally arrived. We swam in the river to clean up and cool off, though it was only mid thirties today, positively balmy! Now for the hard bit. The serious hills had arrived. Tom was so strong, he kept me going. The temperature rose to the high 30s. I had my mantra, ‘Carla did it so can I!’ We stopped to wild camp at a beautiful spot, not quite as far as Carla went but we’d topped the steepest section and that was good enough for me.
We started early the following morning and were soon joined by a fellow Brit, Gemma. She was on a 2-month solo tour and was very happy to have some company for a while. Her destination was Hope, 70 miles away, 20 miles further than we had planned. Gemma offered us the use of the shower in her hotel room if we could make it, if there were 2 beds, we could even spend the night there! We sped ahead. We had 35 miles of up then 35 miles of down. Could we, do it? For a shower and possibly a bed we could. The uphills were easier, the downhills went on for miles. It was tough though. The road was being resurfaced, some sections of the hard shoulder had collapsed, at times there was no hard shoulder at all and the ever present traffic was relentless. Finally, though we arrived in Hope. 3 hours after Gemma on her lightweight carbon bike, but we made it. They filmed Rambo here but for us we had only one thought, a shower! Only one bed though, dam. I looked at the floor, would she mind if we slept there. No problem, so showered, clean after 3 days of heat and dust, we treated Gemma to a cheese and biscuits party whilst we crashed in her room. Bliss, thanks Gemma!
