Club Member, Simon heads off to Vancouver on a suicide mission. The locals tried to kill him but he survived to tell the tale!

Eagle Ridge Sunday 18 March 2001

I was woken by thunderous rain in the early morning, and thought "Hmmm. I'll get a call to cancel the ride", but when Neil DID call, it was just to confirm when we'd meet. We arranged for me to pick him up from his house, and we drove to Eagle Ridge Starbucks, to see who else would turn up.

Paul was there with his wife and kids, having thought there wouldn't be a ride. As I burned my tongue on my coffee, people started to turn up, and after what seemed a LONG time getting ready (including me inflating my tyres which I'd had to deflate for the flight), we started off up the road. Riders: Neil, Dmitri, Darren, Craig, Greg, Tom & me.

When I'd taken a look at the bikes, I'd started to wonder what I was letting myself in for ... BIG tyres, flat pedals, disk brakes, full face helmets, telescopic seat posts (to allow the seat to be dropped *real* low without fouling the suspension), single front chain rings with bash protectors - these guys were downhillers! Dmitri & Darren were running 24" wheels to make room for their huge front tyres, and Dmitri had Marzocchi Massive Triple forks, which wouldn't have looked out of place on a motorbike...

After a stiff road climb, we waited at a new school building for the slower riders to catch up, and also for Paul, who had gone home to get his bike. He turned up with Mike, so that made 9 riders. We rode into the forest, and up a slippery, rock strewn climb. I immediately felt right at home with this group. It was just like being with our club, except the accents were different.

Under the trees, the rain was scarcely noticeable. I later came to recognise it as a characteristic of BC biking - long, long climbs. The mountains are several sizes bigger than ours... After some considerable climbing, we reached a level spot under some powerlines. The guys started lowering their saddles, strapping on armour, and generally preparing for danger, and I became more uneasy - what horrors were to come ? We began a fast, wide downhill over scattered rubble, quite tame, I thought smugly (pride before the literal fall). Darren showed us a scar on his thigh, about a foot long, where he'd fallen off on this track and ripped his leg open. We turned off into the trees onto some singletrack, and I began to see just how accomplished the BC guys really were.

In the UK, downhills tend to be quite short; here, they go on, and on, for ages, over endless slick tree roots, drop-offs and assorted artificial obstacles (these are like close-spaced, horizontal ladders, usually leading to a scary drop, or onto a narrow log over a deep gully - totally outside my experience). I just couldn't believe that I'd get any grip on the ladders, but after a while, I tried a few easy ones, and was surprised to find that I did have some control, but I never formed enough confidence for log-balancing.

Needless to say, I found myself walking around or over many of the things that the others rode. One of the riders (I think it was Paul), asked me how I was liking it, and I replied "Unf**kingbelievable!", and someone else asked "What did he say ?", so he repeated my comment, with some relish...

As we dropped down the mountain, the going got easier, and we followed a long, sweeping trail which zigzagged back and forth through the ever-present trees, with the occasional drop-off to spice things up. Even with single finger braking, my arms were pumped with the effort. We emerged onto the road, and I was a little disappointed, thinking we'd finished, but after a little road riding, we were back into the forest, sploshing though puddles, jumping fallen logs and the inevitable slick roots. At one point, we passed a sign "Beware bears"!

Burke Mountain Wednesday 21 March

Riders: Neil, Steve & Simon

Steve's wife drove as far up the mountain as possible, as Neil was not confident his lights would last long (honest), and Steve had been delayed in traffic. We set off, and I noticed that Steve and Neil were talking an easy pace. Gradually, the sheer scale of the climb began to dawn on me, as each bend in the trail opened views of more climb ahead. The trail was fairly steep and loose, and after a while, I began to pray my back wheel would spin out, so I could take a rest, but it never quite did. Neil became a smaller and smaller dot in the distance.

Eventually (but still only halfway up the mountain, I understand), we reached the trailhead, and turned onto "Vicks". Steve said to me "Can you handle steep ?", and I told him I could. What I couldn't handle was steep combined with huge drops and tangled roots. Under the trees, it was already dark, and I turned on my lights - the air was so still, that if one stopped, vision was obscured by a cloud of condensed breath. I rode part of the way, and carried my bike over numerous tricky sections, forcing Neil and Steve to wait for me frequently (but good naturedly). It was an exciting ride, enhanced by the darkness.

After a while, we emerged onto a more open track, pausing to admire the dusk view, and congratulating ourselves for being out on such a fine evening. We then rode into a narrow tunnel of vegetation, with thick mud under foot - I was amused to find that I left Neil and Steve behind in these more typically British conditions. After a while, the track steepened severely, dropping twistily beside a plunging torrent, into which it threatened to pitch me (or so it seemed). I don't think I've ever had my arse quite so far back over the wheel, and somehow, for the most part, I managed to stay on the bike. We rejoined the fire road we'd climbed on initially, for a fast downhill back to our starting point, and continued down the road for a while, until we reached "Flywheel", which was great fun, even though very muddy. Steep, twisty and slippery, but less technical - apparently a breeze when dry.

It's difficult to convey the scale of these tracks, compared to what I'm used to, they just go on and on. Eventually, we came out on the road, for about a mile's ride back to Neil's house, my light expiring as we reached it.

The North Shore, Saturday 24th March

I'd begun to discern a pattern. The first ride was more or less manageable, to lull me into a false sense of security, the second definitely frightening, and the third threatened to kill me...

Riders: Neil, Darren, Craig, Greg, Justin, Bruce, Dmitri, Darren, Bruce,Jake,Lance and Simon.

We parked on Mountain Highway, and rode up the hill to the trail gate, where we met the other riders. This is obviously a very popular biking area, and we were passed by at least 30 riders in the short time we were waiting for Dmitri to turn up. We started to climb the fire road, an easy enough climb, but seemingly endless. I found it hard to ride slowly enough to keep back with the others. I think we must have climbed steadily for about an hour, with one stop for a group photo [to follow].

Eventually, we reached the top of "Upper Oilcan". The trail begins with a vertical 8 foot drop over a huge tree stump, with an exit ramp and a cobbled run-out. We spent some while, as people strapped on their armour, looking at the daunting drop, and I positioned myself to take some photos - though embarrassingly, it turned out there was no film in the damned camera! Several riders rode the drop, some more than once, trying to improve their style! This track was well beyond my meagre ability, and I spent a lot of time wheeling my bike. I also fell over one drop, acquiring a nasty cut on one knee, which bled profusely.

At one point, we reached a rock, about 15 feet high, with a 70 degree slope - which I understand, Darren, Dmitri and Lance and Bruce rode - I couldn't bear to watch. This was followed by a huge log (well, tree trunk), along which one was supposed to balance before turning (on an inadequate platform), onto another. Most of the guys rode this without turning a hair, and when I carried my bike over it, someone called, "Hey Simon, you some kind of a tourist ?" - thanks guys ! It was humbling to have imagined myself a seasoned mountain biker, and yet find myself walking most of the trail. There was much hilarity when we came out onto the fire road again, and people could see the condition of my knee [photo].

A short climb brought us to "Executioner" (encouraging name). I can't bring to mind any details - I guess it takes familiarity to distinguish the characteristics of trails all featuring trees, steep, roots, drops, logs, jumps and near-death experiences. Paul got a call on his mobile to tell him one of his kids was sick, so he and Bruce left us, while we rode a trail called "Bitches". After a while, I looked back, and began to wonder if I'd taken a wrong turn, as I couldn't see anyone following. I hadn't seen any branches, so I decided to continue, and came across Lance, lying on his back, legs pointing uphill. He'd failed to clear some complicated obstacle, hit his face on a rock, and looked decidedly shaken and pissed off. After a little while, he dragged himself to his feet, insisting that he was OK, but not inclined to wait for everyone to catch up, so he rode off on his own, pointing out that if he fell off again, we'd find him beside the trail.

Eventually, the others DID appear, and we continued down the mountain. I gradually began to realise that if I used a little less front brake, I wouldn't get pitched over the bars, and the bike would manage to find its way, even without input from the befuddled pilot! The trail brought us out onto a steep suburban road, and we had about a mile of road (with stunning views over Vancouver to the South) back to the cars. It had taken us about 3 1/2 hours to cover 8 miles! (And I was exhausted, scratched and battered).

Final Thoughts

Any thoughts I might have harboured that the Canadians would turn out to be softies were thoroughly overturned. One couldn't ask for a more friendly bunch to ride with, and they seem to take their remarkable skill pretty much for granted. I'd recommend British Colombia to anyone who wants a new biking experience, but expect to find yourself severely challenged.

Best quote, from Neil: "Yeah, I've been to Moab, but I found it kinda tame...!"

Check out "The Fat Boys" (formerly "Fat Tire Boys", I believe) at http://www.thefatboys.ca

Written By Simon