Ferry To Prince Rupert B.C.

Getting My Journal Caught Up
July 1, ˜80

Not too shabby; I’m sitting in the lounge, drinking a Labatte’s Blue,
enjoying the view of the offshore islands. Through the window across the lounge, British Columbia’s snow capped mountains are shinning in the sunshine. Most of
the trip to Prince Rupert, 330 miles, will be along this
intercostal waterway, a route that twists in-between islands and
coastal mountains--spectacular. Even getting here was spectacular.

After Parksville, the ride to Campbell River was wet. In fact, I
didn’t even make it to Campbell River. I got caught in a rainstorm
just before I reached there. I went into a little store to escape the
rain, and ended up standing on the store’s porch. I noticed a garage
behind the store, so after I checked it out, I decided to put my tent
up behind it. I suppose the deer and mountain goats new I was there,
but I was totally out of sight of humans.

On Sunday, I bicycled into Campbell River and found that I had
arrived on the last day of the Salmon festival. After thirty minutes
of watching a bunch of fly fisherman fish the Campbell River from the
bridge overlooking the river, I peddled into town. It was a small
town, all towns north of Nanimo were small, only this one was laid out
so that the line of sight down Main Street pointed straight at a huge
glacier. As the crow flies, the glacier was hanging atop the mountain
at the end of the street--absolutely beautiful. After I watched the
parade, I was ready to head out. It wasn’t long after that that I noticed
that I had lost the screw that secured the my back bike wrack that secured
both my sleeping bag and bike panniers to my bike. I couldn’t trek
into the wilderness that way, so I turned around and headed back into
town.