Adrian City (North of Elkford) to Butts Patrol Cabin

A venturesome minority will always be eager to set off on their own, and no obstacle should be placed in their path, let them take risks, for God’s sake, let them get lost, sunburnt, stranded, drowned, eaten by bears, buried alive in avalanches – that is their right and privilege.Ed Abbey

A really big day today, in terms of height gain, especially with the big hill at the start of the trail. This marks the start of the reroute, necessary because a vital bridge was down in the Flathead valley, south east of Elkford.

Some recce photos/comments had been posted.1 The reroute was decribed as: Crossing Creek Trail a.k.a the ‘Koko Claims’ hors category2 Monster of Elkford BC alternative (so flat then!!). Photos of the chunky sized boulder strewn trail certainly added to the mystique. On the positive side the route eliminates 45 miles of tarmac.

Consequently, while I had a rough idea of what to expect, I was unaware of what was exactly was to come. I think the uncertainty of what the day holds; both good and bad, be it weather, terrain/topography, mechanical issues, people interaction etc, and how exactly one deals with these, is the one of the major appealing aspects of bikepacking.

I was easily able to find the sharp right turn onto the KoKo trail, a racer was camping there, and so commenced the climb.

Unfortunately the views below do not convey the fact that we are looking at completely unrideable 10+% slopes. Trackleaders has me doing 7.6 miles in 3 hrs; I was really burning this trail up.

The route acted as a natural choke point and consequently caused a marked increase in rider density. There was a universal air of joint suffering and good natured cursing of this rough, tough re-route.

One major feature which I particularly remember in this section was the ‘sporting’ river crossing.

It looked deceptively easy – and indeed other riders had obviously crossed; but there was a bugger of a potential fall downstream if you lost your footing, it was ‘just’ that bit wider than was comfortable, the water flow was significant and the water was absolutely freezing.

Naturally there was no way of bypassing this obstacle.

So nothing for it but to take off the old cycling boots, ensure everything was strapped on tight and plunge in (perhaps plunge is not quite the right term in this context) and get on with it. Heavens it was cold – you definitely DID NOT want to fall here.

Fortunately all went well and I was able to get across, although my feet stayed damp and didn’t warm up for several hours. I had no towel – I used my woolly hat to some beneficial effect instead, but it still did not totally dry my feet.

We were continually reminded of the fact we were in bear territory by the vast amounts of bear scat lying, or should I say scattered, around.

I’ll tell you, if they find an economic use for the stuff, then Canada is sitting on a goldmine…. Bear shit futures will rocket but somehow I don’t plan to purchase any in the near future.

After reaching the Bull River Forest Service Road quicker progress was possible, despite the presence of several avalanche induced obstructions.

I told some trail bikers riding north I didn’t think they would be able to get over this. They tried, couldn’t and passed me as they backtracked heading south.

Quite a bit of work had been put into maintaining this road, as evidenced by the significant efforts to rectify this recent bank collapse.

After leaving the road there was climb up the Hartley / Sulphur snowmobile trail via Hartley lake and then down the steep fast route to Fernie.

It was on this route that I first experienced the technique of cycling downhill at speed on a forest trail. Obvious you might think; but you would be wrong; the inside bend is frequently wash boarded – not somewhere you meet when doing 40k+. The outside of the bend often has very loose gravel with nothing preventing you skidding out if you brake hard – again not somewhere you want to be doing at speed.

So you are constantly counter intuitively steering towards the outer side of the bend; either the side where the drop is or conversely where the rock face looms at you, but not so close you cannot cope with the severity of the turn. In addition directional changes are best not performed on loose gravel. So the art is setting the bike up early up for the next bend, while avoiding any unexpected hazards.

This would be a skill I would have ample opportunity to practice over the forthcoming weeks.

The wind in the valley was adverse and it was a battered, exhilarated but equally rather tired chappie who rolled into Fernie.

Dating from 1898 the town was destroyed twice, once in 1904 and even more comprehensively in a massive firestorm which developed after a forest fire ignited a vast lumber store in town in 1908.

In town my priorities were establish comms, charge batteries, get food and recuperate.

I chose an A&W, an uninspiring functional ‘Macdonald’s’ type fast food place. Crap food, friendly service. I saw root beer on offer so asked what it was like. I was immediately proudly given an ice cold pint mug, brim full with the ‘stuff’. I had only wanted a small amount to try.

Anyway, a small sip to see what we have got…God it’s gobbingly awful – literally liquid bubble gum.

So…having been given a free pint of this witches brew, with the chap wanting to know what I think, what do I do now?

• spit it out, thereby spraying it all over the counter,
• swallow the stuff, smile, imply I like it and then have to repeat the process because there is so much left, or do I
• tell him what I really think, but in so doing offend the really nice chap behind the service bar.

I ended up being typically British by pretending to take another sip and saying:
‘Humm…. that’s interesting, really interesting’!!
I don’t think the Canadians understand irony.

I would have poured the rest of this concoction into a nearby plant pot but it would have killed the plant, if the plant hadn’t been artificial to start with. As it was it would have probably have melted the plastic.

There was more than a hint of rain in the air when I set off for the
Harvey-Lodgepole Road which would take me back to join the traditional TD route within the Flathead valley, south of the now infamous downed bridge.

I was completely alone now, all the other racers had either sped off or dropped behind, I suspected the former. It gradually grew darker as I climbed to the top of the pass and I finished the last 2½ hrs of the ride in the dark.

The long 35k downhill section consisted of various deeply rutted muddy sections alternating with gravel. Consequently I spent the majority of the time standing on the pedals in order to accommodate any sudden changes in trail surface. It was surprisingly soothing peddling for 20 – 30 strokes and gliding for while and then repeating. I only fell off………..twice!

Still night, no wind, no extraneous noise, just me, my thoughts, the bike and my world framed by the limits of my bike light – almost peaceful.

Bugger the bears!!

Given my progress I was determined to get to Butts Patrol Cabin for my overnight stop, irrespective of what there was left of the night. I realised the Cabin (first come first served simple hut) would probably be inhabited with fellow racers, but hoped there would be some room at the inn. I had to be careful I did not overshoot the stop in the dark but I found it well enough.

I eventually arrived at 23.00 – a long day. As expected, the Cabin was rammed full of bodies with snores, grunts and farts everywhere. Despite the fact that I was in need of sleep I made sure I took the opportunity to hang my tent on the porch to air. This was important as it helps prevent mildew growth, and I had not had the opportunity to do this during the day.

I finally bedded down, by feel, under a table; under these circumstances, with everyone else asleep or snoozing, it’s simply not etiquette to use one’s torch.

A big day, and one I was glad to have completed.

As I dozed off I remember thinking:
This thing is bloody tough
it will be very ‘interesting’
if it continues at this intensity’

It’s a good job I understand irony

Slept well.