We got away from the base of the waterfall, away from the rocks peppering the ground all around us. With all the melt from the glacier in this 30 plus weather the waterfall was abnormally high for this late in the season. We moved down the creek back to the truck and headed west to a fishing hole to try our luck in an other sport. Dawning on waders and shoes Brad and I headed to the confluence of little Trout Creek and the Bulkley River. Before casting the line in the gentle eddy's I glanced at my watch and 6 30pm it read.
 
   There were about 6 to 7 people casting from the shore, up to their knees in the cool river. It looked a fools game that they were participating in and every time I walked past them we both acknowledged each other with a tip of the hat. Brad moved fast up the river towards another confluence, the Toboggan Creek / Bulkley River. I stayed for a couple more casts. However, after failing to get a bite and on the verge of loosing one of my Blue Fox #3 I decided to follow Brad. I noticed an older man had just arrived sporting a white hat moving along the shoreline towards where Brad stood. He walked past Brad, they again tipped their hats, and quickly threw his line in an eddy...

   Bam! Fish on for the old guy with the hat. I am kind of glad he has a fish on. Reconfirms my action of throwing my own line in the water for hours on end. I walk up to Brad, pointing to the guy with the fish. Brad's shaking his head. He can't believe that guy caught a fish! Then I notice Brad has snagged his line and snaps it soon after.

  Hours slowly fade into the flowing river. I watch salmon rise and the water follow the patterns of the land. Old guy with the white hat has caught about four Coho. I have lost about 25 dollars in spinners. The sun is setting lower behind the mountains. I walk back towards Brad, who is fishing a new hole by the truck. I tip my hat to the old guy. I am glad he caught all them fish.

... "Hey Matt, the fish are rising over there!" Brad tells me.
    "Oh ya."

   I take up my rode again. I notice a calm spot where the current lets off. I throw the silver Blue Fox #4 right on the threshold of current and calm. BAM! Holy shit I have a fish on! A feeling of extreme pride of my fishing abilities swells from my pores. I smile crests cheek to cheek. It feels big, and I worry about the test of my line. But after about 10 minutes of fighting the silver Coho I am smashing a stick over its head.

   With a 10 pound Coho in my hand the old man walks up to me with a coho in his hand. My coho is a good 6 inches bigger. He compliments my fish, I thank him for his beta he shared with me earlier that day. I walk back the truck with Brad, I am the only guy carrying a fish.

The Tree Dilemma

Its July 30th already and I am still in the bush planting trees. I am moving my ass by Jetta four hours east then another 4 hours North until I hit Chetwynd. There, in Chetwynd, 8 days of work wait for me. Its just going to be another bush camp, another bag up of trees, another tree planted, and another pay check in a already swelling bank account. Sure, there are better things that I would rather be doing than extending my season another 8 days but I try to think of all the positive things that could be the result of helping out a company who are losing planters quickly. Maybe a future job opportunity will spring aboard or maybe best friends will be found. Then again, maybe nothing will come out of this but a little more cash flowing into my possessions. The summer is quickly fading in the North, and everyday I spend planting trees is another day wasted in the mountains. But for now thats okay. The mountain's cannot move and if summer was to go without my feet stomping on mountain peaks all that would mean is that falls here and up I go but with cooler temperatures.

So now I pray for the Jetta to be strong. I promise to get crucial parts fixed when I get back to Smithers because now there is no time. And I say goodbye to my neglected bikes and heavy duffle bag of climbing gear. I to promise to come back to thee and ride on shitty roads until frames are twisting and gears are straining, and to put rock gear tightly into constricting cracks up big routes. But for now I only take one friend, its a lesser friend, however maybe it's my most important. I grab my planting shovel from the corner of my room and walk to the Jetta...

   A torn page falls out of my notebook, this is what is says...

March 16, 2013


   It's been my third day here at the south end of Arrowstone Protected Area. The weather has changed from warm to cold so I lay in my tent wishing for the sun to awake my limbs. It is to bad I must wait a couple days for that to happen.
   It is a pleasant feeling to be not on the move for a bit. I can just wake up and greet the day for what it really is. Good morning cold, nice to see you this afternoon sun, good night world! The birds sing to me when I wake and they sing me an evening tune while I drink my tea. The wind blows in the afternoon to clean the valley bottoms from the days heating. The mountains look over me, and call out to me in dreams. They know me and show me the way. Their paths are narrow and steep but they allow the well trained eye to follow.

   The approach to the granite face raises my heart rate enough that I only talk in short sentences. Maybe it is the pace, maybe it is I am not in the best shape. We are heading to a spot named the Southern Dihedrals to take our rock climbing skills to try some multi pitch trad routes. Our gear fills our backpacks as we hike to our final destination. We are skeptical though, Copper Mountain is wet, and streams flow across the almost vertical rock face. I remember last year we attempted the same route but were denied because of a stream flowing in the crack system we were to follow. But maybe it would be different. We get there, and right away I laugh at the expectant sight of a minor river flowing down the face. There is no possible way to climb the route! Again!
   We look at the face and see what is climbable, nothing fun, everything that is dry is two hard for us. We are defeated, again. But instead of heading back to the car we decide to continue right to a second area named the Southern Most Dihedrals and we see a climb that is wet, but..."if we are able to get through this first section of wet it seems to dry out when it really matters. " one of us say. "We should at least try" another of us blurts. I convince Brad that he should try first, and he agrees with a hesitant yes. We get prepared and soon we are ready. Brad ties into the sharp end and I take the belayer's stance. The first piece of protection is a bolted hanger, get to this before falling and hitting the ground is impossible. Brad moves up, and traverses right. Wet rock his feet are on and it gets the better of him, not physically, but mentally, and he tells me that he will turn away and that I should give it a go. He reverses his moves and comes back safely to the ground. It is now my turn.
   I grab the cams, the nuts, the quick draws and slings. I slip into my rock shoes and chalk my hands. I glance over at the all to important bolt and make my plan to get there. I take one last deep breath and with hands clutching rock and feet balanced the fun starts....

   I move up and right towards the first bolt. I know that rock is wet and I am being extra conscience of my feet position's. A 7 foot fall could turn into a 20 meter tumble down the approach slope. Falling is not an option until I can clip my rope into this first bolt. Without much more thinking I clip a quickdraw to the bolt and feed the rope through the other end of the carabiner. I am safe...for now. Now I have a series of cracks and flakes to make my way up, all wet. I move up, and I place gear to protect falls. Up and up I go until I hit a roof that seems impossible to surmount. I hang out in the alcove under the roof and ponder my next moves. I try to jam a fist into the crack but every time I pull on it it slides a little. I try to grab the flake above it but still cannot get the confidence to get over this obstacle. I rest inside the alcove again. I realize I cannot get over this! I need to find another way. I look at the gear attached to my harness and grab my biggest cam. It looks like it just might fit, right...there! It fits and it seems solid. I grab onto the sling attached to the cam and pull on it and with this extra little help I am able to get my feet and body over this roof and here I am able to clip onto a bolt. Safe again. From the bolt I do a strenuous lay back almost all the way to the top of the climb. The route is more then half of the ropes length so the climb was in the high end of 30 meters. I finished the climb by running out the crack since no other pieces would fit into it. I stand on the ledge with a sense of accomplishment as I clip into the bolted belay station. I let out deep sigh as I start to make the anchor to belay Brad up the climb. Feeling satisfied I let out a yell that hovers over the valley bottom and echo's back up towards me...

A tainted landscape my eyes are upon. Cancerous properties with houses sitting where native trees once grew. The pollution of noise from the highway's mingle with the bird song...

What is the ultimate adventure? These are some prerequisites that I have come up with that I try to make sure I fill before I set out on one:

1. Must be human powered, and when fossil fuels are needed the cheapest way must be chosen.
2. Camping should be free, if you can find a place to set up camp without spending take it. However, I realize camping with showers and electric outlets can be used at limited time. And on special occasion a cheap motel can't hurt. 
3. If it is impossible you didn't try hard enough, or you are just taking bad advice. 

Achilles

   "Yo Brad, how's it going, how was your trip into the Babines", I ask a friend who I haven't seen in months.
   "Achilles is dead. We got caught in a huge avalanche and Achilles got buried. I couldn't find him", Brad told me with solemn eyes.

   Achilles is dead? I have a hard time believing the truth in his words. Achilles, the happy go lucky Husky who talks to you if you ask "you wanna go skiing?". His high pitch bark slash growl happily proclaims "Yes! Lets go skiing!" I guess that was Achilles last ski.
   A dog dying in the backcountry is very upsetting, especially to someone who loves to go skiing with his dogs. As much as we love turning ski's on high mountain slopes dogs equally love crashing headlong through all the powdery snow. When you finally reach the bottom the dog's are all ready for another lap. It is truly a rewarding place to bring your dog, for both the dog and for their owner.
   However, every time you bring your dog on a trip into the mountains when skiing there is always a feeling of distrust to the mountains. You feel a little unease when your dog is under you while you cross a steep slope. You know the worst case scenario, I guess your only hope is that it won't happen to you, and it is devastating news that it happened to Brad and Achilles.

Rest in Peace Achilles, you were one of the rad ones.

Happenings

    I sit for breakfast in my dinning room with a plate full of toast with my mothers homemade strawberry jam and a orange cut into eights. The aroma of my french vanilla coffee out of the moka pot fills the house while I ponder the last couple of days...
   Five days ago I packed my car and said goodbye to friends and started my drive across the country to my adopted home of Smithers, BC. My car again defeated the odds and made it here without worry. It was good to see my brother and his wife and there newest part of the family Luna, a miniature Australian Shepherd who I only knew from photos. Isn't it funny five long painstakingly long days can be summed up in around three sentences? Oh well, its hard to get excited about driving my car for four days.

  And here I am, sitting comfortably at a table in a place that I will learn to call home. The mountains are only a stone throw away and the horizon can only be described as breathtaking. When I look into these mountains my mind sees the adventures that will be spent on them. Hours walking up and down them, jumping from rock to rock, sliding down snow slopes, and hand gripped deathly tight upon tiny rock holds that suspend my body above hundreds of feet of space. But that is not all I see, how can you blindly look up to the mountains and not see the enchanting evergreens that hug the mountains base and valley floors, where the mountain creeks turn to raging rivers. Where the wildlife blossom like a mountain meadow. There isn't one thing that brought me to this place, its the whole of the west that brought me here, every mountain, valley, lake, and stream.

(The video is taken my my patio its a time-lapse of the local Hudson Bay Mountain)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mattreid13/13345055354/

   Brrr, its cold. After having a week of warmer weather the Canadian winter has continued full force with another upcoming week of cold highs and even colder lows. At the moment a chilly negative 20 degree's Celsius keeps me inside the house. It is days like this that turn my mind to days of adventure and the hope to get outside soon. The thaw cannot come soon enough! But enough hopeful thoughts for one day. As cold as I am when I go out for walks in this weather, the animals that inhabit the

forests of Canada are colder. They cannot go into a heated house to escape the cold. They cannot put on a extra layer of clothes when the temperatures dip in the low 20s. Yet they get out of their dens and burrows to battle the temperatures. They wear nothing but the fur on their backs. It shows you that these creatures belong here. They have everything they need to survive any sort of impending weather system. Yet us humans would die here in a matter of hours if we didn't have some sort of external material to cover our naked skin. We are aliens to the Northern winters, we clearly do not belong in this environment. Yet here we are with the squirrels. They must look upon us with pity!

Impressions of the Winter Wood

   On a cold and dreary day the Ontario boreal forest can be a drab to travel through. The dominant colours are the brown and grey of the woods hue and the dark green of the spruce and pines needles. It's a hard prospect to come upon something vibrant, and if you do its usually due to human littering or is just another person walking along. This point in the season people are yearning for the snow to start to melt away and the sun to shine bright along their skin. Going outside is a chore for most in the middle of february up here, and sometimes I admit it can be if your mind is not in the right place, like thinking of the future warmth.

   Try not to though.

   Every walk in the woods is a difference experience if you just turn off your music and focus your attention to your surroundings. The forest you think to be boring and lifeless is dying to be heard from wanting senses. The squirrels in the tree's are seeking an audience to show themselves gracefully soaring from branch to branch, tree to tree. The bird's patiently wait for someone to hear their songs, and the river churns impatiently for you to stop and listen to its voice roar or whisper. Even your own footsteps make a rhythmic tone through the tree's, which all the forest stops to hear.

   To clear your mind of wasteful thoughts and to pin your attention down to the task at hand will bring much enjoyment to your walks in the woods. Remember that each day is unique, and tomorrow the forest you be changed. So revere in her today! With eyes open you will unlock her secrets. Today I found Highbush Cranberries as red as the ripest cherries. They seemed to be giving off their own light!

Close up of a cluster of Highbush Cranberries

Highbush Cranberries

   Slowing down to the pace of the forest also puts all this winter into prospective. Remember, winter is only a season, it comes then it goes. If you look at the tree's closely you will see this fact of life. The buds of all the deciduous trees are starting to open up. They are reminding you not to worry about the cold so much because nothing is forever.

Budding Branch

   My words of wisdom is to dawn a jacket and a pack and get lost in the woods, no matter the excuse you have on the tip of your tongue. 

Good day.  

    The Florida Loop from Start to Finish

  The Maps from Adventure Cycling Association (ACA)

• Atlantic Coast Bicycle Route 7 
• St. Augustine, FL to Key West, FL
• 513.5 miles
• Florida Connector Bicycle Route Section 1
• St. Augustine, FL to Fort Lauderdale, FL
• 530 miles

   I started the tour in St. Augustine Beach, about 10.5km south of St. Augustine. I took 14 days to get down to Key West. That means on average I did almost 37 miles (58km) average per day. From Key West I headed north again along the US 1 highway that connects the Keys. I then followed State Road 987 and 27 from Homestead to West of Fort Lauderdale to connect with the ACA Florida Connector Bicycle Route which added another 179 miles. I also did 38 miles riding my bike between Sugarloaf Key and Key West one day after I already completed the Atlantic Coast Section. So subtracting the 6 miles south from the proper start I cycled 724.5 miles for the first leg of the trip.

   The second leg started when I went underpass of Interstate 75 on day 20. That is 22.5 miles away from the actual start location. From there I went west to Fort Myers and than north to where I started. I again did not go to the finish St. Augustine, again subtract the 6 miles. I also didn't complete the 6.5 miles marked the Ferry Spur but thats not included in the Florida Connector's final milage. In total I cycled 507.5 miles on the second leg. 

   The total trip miles accumulates to 1232 miles or 1971.2 km in 34 days. 

PS: I towed a 30 pound dog on a BOB trailer with a fully loaded Long Haul Trucker

Julie the Dog

The Ride minus the Border Collie

Day 34

   I sit in the Super 8 in St. Augustine all cleaned up finally wearing an acceptable set of clothes. All my things are scattered all over the floor which is their accustomed habitat, be it home or anywhere else. I can't help but let my mind wander to new things that are over the horizon. With this cycle tour behind me I can set my thoughts to new doings. The one thing I am most excited for is to walk slowly through the forest with just my camera. The forest that I know all so well, the forest of Canada, the great boreal woods. The tree's that I know by name and the birds familiar songs. And for Julie the squirrel's that need to be chasing. It's great to get out to places that are new. To learn new experiences is life's greatest joy, for it helps the progression of all mankind, but on a more personal level it reminds me of what I left behind. Thank you Florida of the United States, you let me in with open arms and I hope to visit you again another day. But for now, fairly well.

Day 27

   I managed to get through the sprawling masses of Fort Myers and Port Charlotte (that is a bit of an exaggeration, they weren't too big). The American Cycling Associations map that I'm following polity reminds me that I am 305 miles from the trusty ol' Jetta that sits in a storage compound in St. Augustine Beach.
   On day 25 I slept in this so called Wilderness Preserve that disallows the use the motorized vehicles. I set up camp early due to the potential of heavy rain and thunderstorms. I laid in my hammock for hours. When the sun came down a battalion of mosquitos under control from General "I'm a gonna ruin your night" attacked with relentless efficiently. I retreat to the confines of my tiny bivy bag with Julie taking a spot at my feet. Here I hunkered down in safety only subject to the annoying buzzing. I managed to fall asleep.
  However, then the most unexpectedly thing happened. As a opened my eyes due to Julie's sudden movements, and saw two huge bright lights coming down the trail I was happily laying across. No motarized vehicles my ass! I panic hoping to god they see me . I finally manage to find the zipper and opened the bag just in time to let three ATV full of teenagers pass. Holy shit!
   Anyway day 26 saw the likes of Fort Myers North Fort Myers head into my rearview mirror without incident. The night was magnificent compared to the last few because it did not rain and the mosquito's were nowhere to be found. It did clear during the night letting the temperature drop significantly. Shitty nights really make you appreciate the good ones.
   Today I will be clear of Port Charlotte and heading into rural central Florida. I see hills on the topo's and lots of potential camping spots.

   Here are some photo's of the last couple days:

A bird of prey. Comment me the proper name. 

West of La Belle in a Preserve looking for someplace to camp. 

Tripods aren't only used to hold a camera still. 

  Anyway, I will finish the Arsenal game. They are 0-0 going into the second half of the game vs Crystal Palace. With a win they are back on the top!

   Cheerio for now!

Day 24

   "It doesn't rain, it pours." said someone wise.

   I don't know if its true to most people but for me it seems like a fairly accurate account of the rain that I experience. This is especially true when riding a bicycle through it, battling a far to common headwind. There's no escaping it really. I woke up at 7am and the rain was still falling from when I went to bed. I seemed to be floating on an island, maybe I was transported back to the florida keys. Well I wasn't, I was hidden away somewhere in the Okaloacoochee (or something like that) State Forest under my thin yellow tarp. I decided then that I wasn't going to leave that spot until the rain stopped. Well eight came, then 9, and at 10, with a sore neck and a "no way, don't even think about getting up" look from my dog I got up and packed everything into my panniers. Taking the yellow tarp down was a sad sight with Julie trying to stay dry underneath it. Still raining, I jumped onto my bike and repeatedly told Julie to jump in the back, she did, but not without a big sigh...

   And now I sit in hot motel with all my belongings drying somewhere in La Belle, Florida. Hopefully the rain either disappears or just relents a bit.

   On a side note, here is my camp from Day 22 on the shores of Lake Okeechobee:

The places that I call home.

   Well everyone try to stay dry and warm out there. Talk to all again soon!

January 28th, 2014

   I sit in the Clewiston Library. Its been a long hard road to get there.

  The heat if suffocating at times and I can never have enough water for both me and Julie. The towns seem farther in the middle of Florida. Anyway I'm here and I'll stop the complaining. I just look on the bright side of things, at least I am on a bike!

The camping has been good. Yesterday I spent the night on the shores of Lake Okeechobee. This morning though I realized that if I would of went like and 3 miles further there was a proper primitive campsite. A morning fog enveloped me around 5 in the morning and managed to properly soak everything I own. I plan on lounging lazily at one of these primitive campsites along  the Lake Okeechobee Scenic Trail.

The Okeechobee Lake Scenic Trail goes around the the whole Lake. I have been contemplating about biking around it. I have decided to do it. This adds about 110miles to the trip. Making the trip total going up to 1266mi or 2024km. She's a long one!

"Notes From the Journal"

Map Atlantic Coast Section 7 St. Augustine, Fl to Key West, FL 513.5mi complete.

• riding back up to Fort Lauderdale to HWY 27. Currently about  160mi to that intersection.
• Estimate 4 days to start Map Florida Connector Map

Jan 23, 2014

   Day 17. The headwinds are strong and on the bridges even stronger. The turbulence from the semis and RV buses throw me about. I am hoping to make it Marathon today. Grocery at Big Pine. Sun and wind today. 

   Bike wise, today was as productive as a session on Facebook. In the whole of 6hrs and 40 min of my GPS tracking I managed to move only 35km or 21.5mi. My highest elevation was a whopping 17m above sea level, and I somehow got down to -21m below sea level. In the 35km I ascended 484m, I did more descended though at 496m.

   Tonight I will stay on the beach at a Memorial Park on the south side of the 7-Mile Bridge. The UTM coordinates are 17R 476639 2729642. It  seems like a good little spot. This is going to be my 17th night of the trip.

   I ate healthier today mindfully. Ate breaky at the KOA on Sugarloaf Key. Bought groceries at Big Pine consisting of:

• 1 Avocado
• 1 Orange
• 1 pear
• 1 medium sized container of cottage cheese
• 1 pack of Whole Wheat Pita's
• 2 cans of Sardines
• 1 little box of seasoned rice

And I caved in at one of the gas stations getting water and decided to buy a small iced Mocha. I feel much better without the heaps of sugar and processed food inside my stomach. 

   Plans of tomorrow consists of cycling across the 7-Mile Bridge, getting some food at Marathon, getting on ACA's Map 91, and maybe even map 90. I figure I can even do a big day and get to Key Largo, but all that is just downright speculation. I'll see how it goes.

   Oh, and I should have a beautiful sunrise tomorrow!

   PS - still on the reminder list is ear plugs, twist ties, waterproof map bag. Life is hard.

Over 500 miles away from my car. It's just my bike, my dog, and me. I have went as far south as the Florida peninsula will allow. I successfully rode my bike from St. Augustine Beach to Key West. Tomorrow I head the way I came. It's about a 210km trip before I veer left onto highway 41 through Alligator Alley. Well I've got to get back and slip into my hammock. I hope to write in this again soon.