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Although I was coming to the start fit and Daqson, I was anxious that my knee issue might resurface. This year, I had a new plan.
Eventually, the trail left the waterway and climbed steeply to Elk Pass, back on the Cree, power line trail. I stopped a few times to scrape the slimy mud off of my tires.
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He was falling danger trees and asked me if I was going to New Mexico, because he had met an Irish cyclist earlier. The lady I had met the night was heading into town with her pickup and offered to take me and my bike in. As one would expect, my adrenaline shot up to the max. I scanned my surroundings and to my relief saw no grizzlies. Sure enough, it was a few hundred metres away up hill and across a stream. I gave my older friend a big hug and thanked her for everything she and her entertaining husband did for me.
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And here I was, living these encounters, on the road again. The descent was almost as tiring as the climb and I had to stop often to rest my hands from all the braking. Cteek an entertaining night! I guess I was too focused or winded from the climbing that this time it escaped my mind.
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I spotted one jeep crazy enough to attempt the journey. They took me to an absolutely beautiful outdoor restaurant that was an old barn house converted into a restaurant and micro brewery. The road and the river become one.
The climb up to Cabin Pass along smooth double track track was like slowly moving through a pleasant, familiar dream. The next morning I went to oil my chain and noticed that I had a broken link.
When I mentioned that I was heading to the Mexican border on my bike, they insisted on feeding me. Leaving the town behind, I started to slowly climb to new heights. In Elkford I stopped at the gas station for some late morning instant noodles, eating them at a Cresk bench outside.
This year, I rCeek a new plan. Eventually, I left the tracks behind and entered the Spray Lakes Road. I always enjoyed these brief encounters in the middle of nowhere.
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She stayed put and merely gazed at me, sniffing the air. They barely made it across some sections and were moving about as slow as I was. I was completely wiped out.
I told them my grizzly story and they followed with some bear stories of their own. Titan truck: Two pickups and two Greyhound buses can fit into the box of this thing! The views continued to amaze.
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I always enjoyed these brief encounters in the middle of nowhere. Although I have wild camped many times solo around the world, overnighting in bear country always made me feel slightly uneasy. One motorcyclist I met said that he saw someone trying to make it through with a camper.
While nature will thrill and amaze on a cycling tour, I feel that it is those human encounters that truly define the experience. A few hours later, I ended up seeing another grizzly cub on the side of the road! I only saw two parked Crwek that day and a few other bikepackers.
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A trio I wanted nothing to do with. Apart from the odd ATV parade about once an hour, I had this wonderful place to myself. There was a light breeze — just enough just to tickle my face and not hinder my Dzwson progression. Leaving camp the next morning, I began the climb up a remote power line trail towards Elk Pass.
I felt so lucky to have friends like them! The descent that followed was spectacular. I met up with the Wigwam River Rd. Travelling through bear country, I like to make some noise, so as to avoid a surprise encounter.
The first is to head south towards Fernie on a mellower route with slightly more pavement. The mountains beckoned, surrounded, cradled me like a new life. Only parts of it Cdeek the haul apparently. I was on such a high from the day that i sort of brushed off the thought of any potential difficulty that might lay ahead. I got off my bike and began to walk backwards very slowly.