With an early ferry to catch, we get an early start and are down at the hotel’s restaurant at 6:30. It’s a good breakfast, but best is our server - a garrulous, good natured Ukrainian woman who tells us a bit about her home country - something that we prompted by asking about the breakfast menu, which includes a number of typical Ukrainian breakfast items. She talks a bit, walks off, then circles back to tell us that we really should visit Lviv, claiming it is a wonderful city. Then she leaves, then returns with more details. This repeats seven or eight times - she’s obviously very proud of her homeland and makes a fine ambassador for it.
In between her visits I stare at the map and read up a bit on Lviv, a city I’ve barely heard of but in fact does look fantastic. Only about fifty miles east of the Polish border, it looks like it could make a fascinating place to start a tour some year. I’ve been looking for awhile for a way to work northeast Hungary and the Carpathians into a tour, and this could be it. Good material for some winter daydreaming.
The ferry to Tsawwassen leaves from Duke Point, roughly ten miles from Nanaimo’s city center. A ferry run was established there years ago to divert some of the anticipated heavy traffic between Vancouver and the island away from the city. It’s a fast and easy if not particularly interesting ride out. We arrive forty five minutes early and sit on a bench in the sun twiddling our thumbs until the ferry arrives.
Our ferry, the Queen of Alberni, is a huge seven decker that feels like a cruise ship. It’s a two hour crossing, so we settle into our seats to get comfortable and I crack open the paperback I picked up at Munro Books: The Only Story, by Julian Barnes. After about a half hour, we both start feeling chilled by the air conditioning and move to the other side of the ship where it’s a bit warmer.
A few minutes later, an announcement comes over the intercom advising the person who has lost an iPad to please report to the purser’s office and reclaim it. Amazing - it’s Rachael’s, and we’re apparently still trying to lose iPads! I think Keith’s suggestion that she stole mine because she wanted to ditch hers for a larger model may have merit after all.
Riding north to the ferry terminal at the tip of Duke Point, we enjoy a view west across the Nanaimo River delta to Nanaimo, with Mount Benson rising behind it.
After landing, we bike the incredibly long causeway from the ferry terminal to the mainland and then stop off at a store in Tsawwassen to pick up lunch. A mile later we come to the beginning of the Boundary Bike Trail, one of the prettiest and most peaceful riding experiences I can recall. For the next eight miles we ride its smooth crushed rock surface across the absolutely flat Fraser River delta, skirting the edge of the bay. It’s a beautiful ride, and one I’d like to come back to. Maybe in a different season, when I imagine the bay must be filled with wintering or migrating waterfowl.
The Tsawwassen ferry terminal is on a man-made island at the end of this two mile causeway, just 500 feet from the international border.
It’s quiet on the trail, with a few bikes, an occasional walker, and these horses. Most of the time for the next hour there is only another person or two in sight.
And there’s the fireweed to add color. This is really a beautiful area. With the great visibility, this trail can claim to be the prettiest miles of our tour so far.
Looking southeast across Mud Flats and Boundary Bay. This whole broad expanse, the delta of the Fraser River, is absolutely flat. I think we had a net elevation gain of ten feet in the entire eight mile ride.
This man crossed the ferry with us. On his first bike tour, riding from Comox to a family gathering in Abbotsford, he’s lived in this region most of his life but had never been out here on the delta trail. So often we don’t know of the treasure buried in our own back yard.
Perhaps surprisingly, there is no outhouse along the entire trail, a fact that Rachael finds increasingly vexing as we bike along its bumpy surface. There’s not much shelter to dash into in this flat landscape either, but she finally finds her chance near the end of the trail. I bike ahead a ways and then wait for her. When she arrives, she’s on the edge of being panic stricken because her phone is missing. The last memory she has of it is taking a photo of me with another passing cyclist several miles back. Incredible - we’re still trying to lose things! Fortunately, we backtrack and find it in the grass where she had pulled off the trail.
I don’t know why Rachael looks so frowny-faced here, because actually she’s ecstatic. She’s just found her phone that she dropped in the brush here, after finding that it was missing a half mile later. That’s two, Rachael - you’re pushing your luck today!
White Rock is a small beach resort community, with an attractive bayfront district lined by restaurants, shops and a public beach. It looks like a very nice place to spend the evening. Unfortunately we’re not staying there - we’re staying at the top of the ridge above it for some reason known only to our booking agent. We drop into downtown from the headland we’ve just circled and are enjoying a flat last mile along the bay when our route turns away from the water and starts climbing. The first street we turn onto looks more like a cliff than a road - it must be over 30% - but fortunately we turn right almost immediately and start angling up the ridge much more gently on Buena Vista. It’s a deceptive climb though, gradually steepening as we go. By the top it’s rising at about 20%; and since we’re only three blocks from the room anyway, we push the last few blocks rather than arrive completely winded or falling over because we’re biking so slow.
There’s no one home at our lodging when we arrive, so we phone the owner to gain access instructions. We never do see him, and it feels just a bit eerie being here all alone in this large house. It’s actually a very nice place though with a full kitchen, a comfortable common area, and a killer view from the balcony. After showering and changing, we walk down to the waterfront along one of the town’s super steep streets - the bottom two blocks are a staircase - and then shop around for dinner. Afterwards we split up - I browse the waterfront for a bit while she goes to the grocery store - and eventually we both end up back at the room after climbing back up the ridge.
It’s a poor shot because it’s backlit, but we don’t want to forget how much fun it was walking up the last few blocks to our lodging. And this is the easiest approach. At the top, Rachael instructs me to never again book a place on a street named Buena Vista.
On the bay front, White Rock. The town is cut off by the rail line (the Amtrak run sped through town while we ate dinner), but a ways ahead by the pier the promenade crosses the tracks and follows the water.
Where the town gets its name. A large glacial erratic dropped here 11,000 years ago in the last ice age, it is composed of quartz, feldspar and mica. It isn’t naturally quite this white. After it was vandalized and painted black with a white skull and crossbones years ago, it is now repainted white on a regular basis.
Ride stats today: 40 miles, 1,400’; for the tour: 418 miles, 20,100’
Today's ride: 40 miles (64 km) Total: 418 miles (673 km)
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Jacquie GaudetBy your description, I was wondering if the dyke trail had been extended all the way to White Rock. (It didn't when we tried it, decades ago.) On your map, it looks like you took roads, so I'm curious. I'll have to ask my Ladner friend who rides this area frequently. Reply to this comment 4 years ago
Bruce LellmanNext time you two are at our house feel free to leave either an iPad or a phone here. I've never owned an iPad and I don't have a phone either. Reply to this comment 4 years ago
Scott AndersonTo Jacquie GaudetI don’t think it does. It doesn’t look like there’s any crossing over the mouth of the Serpentine River other than the rail line. Reply to this comment 4 years ago
