Day One of a bike trip to SF from Vancouver, Canada. - A near death experience, and camping in a strangers backyard.

Where do I even start? I remember waking up sore and in pain from a bike accident two days ago, when I front-flipped off my bike. I even had to get my bike spoke fixed due to the accident. There is only one word that could describe my feelings that morning, scared. It was around 7 am and I quietly (ok maybe not that quietly) packed my bags and loaded them into the car. The original plan was to bike 30 km to the ferry terminal from my cousin's house in Burnaby, but luckily my uncle offered to give me a lift to to the ferry terminal.

Here I am at the Tsawwassen ferry terminal, the start of the adventure. You can't see my eyes, but it's not just because I'm Asian, ok? It was very sunny. This was actually the first time I had ever put those bags on the bike, which was a mistake. I went to the counter and I purchased a ticket for 19.10 CAD to Schwartz Bay, and was told to head to gate number 5. This was actually my first obstacle of the trip, as I had no idea where the gate was, and rolled my bike around for a good 10 minutes before I spotted the sign. It all just felt unreal. What am I doing?

I was the first to get to the gate. I was hoping I could perhaps meet a stranger who might also be on the road headed south. Racked with nerves, I put on my headphones on and listened to Zach Bryan's new album "The Great American Bar Scene", to calm myself down. After around 30 minutes of standing by the gate, the ferry and other cyclists arrived. But yet my hopes were let down, as there were no bikepackers on the ferry, but this was expected.

I still vividly remember the scene of the gates opening and cycling into the roaring sounds of the ferry. I parked my bike onto the bike racks and went up to the cabins to sit down. I didn't sleep well the last night as I was up late packing for my trip. So I tried to find a nice spot to get some sleep. Filled with butterflies, I couldn't even close my eyes. I don't remember what I did exactly during this time, but it must have been a mixture of just praying and listening to Zach Bryan. After an hour, which had seemed like an eternity, I heard the announcement: We are arriving in Victoria in 15 minutes, please return to your vehicles." I went back down and got my bike ready to roll out of the mouth of the boat. There was no internet on the ferry so as we started approaching the terminal, I frantically googled the directions to downtown Victoria, where I had to board the ferry to Port Angeles, USA. Little did I know, Google will be my hamartia... As the boat's engine roars, and the ferry docks at the terminal, the cyclists begin to get ready, and as soon as the gate opens, we all make the cycle for it before they let the cars out and run us over. As the days went on I realised this would be a common occurrence. But for now, like a caged lion, scratch that, like a caged chihuahua, I rolled out of the belly of the ship into the wilderness, Vancouver Island.

I followed Google Maps for a solid 5 minutes before I found myself on the side of the highway trying not to get run over, so I turned back a bit and decided to follow some other cyclist into town. This was the start of the bike tour, the part where I had to cycle. I was doing alright, the weight of the bags was not too bad, at least for now. So far so smooth and I'm on track for a nice ride to downtown Victoria. Well, that's what I thought at least, cycling across a sidewalk, I hit this little bump, and I heard a thud, I turned back and realized one of my rear bike bags had fallen off. I quickly dropped my bike and ran across to go grab it, before a car ran it over and ended my trip 20 mins in. Turns out I hadn't correctly clipped the bags onto the pannier rack. That gave me a small heart attack. After that, there weren't any more crosswalks, and I was on bike paths straight to downtown, which was a relief. After 2 and a half hours, half an hour slower than the estimated ETA by Google Maps, I had made it to downtown. I hadn't been back to Victoria, since my family and I last came to visit when I was 6 or so, it was nice to see the not-so-familiar sights again.

I entered the BlackBall Ferry Terminal to buy my ticket to Port Angeles, I booked the 3 pm ferry, leaving me two hours to grab lunch. I head around the street looking for somewhere to eat, but when I mean around the street, what I really mean is I'm super lazy, and I just went to the first restaurant I saw. Oh, another thing, I'm too lazy to read the menu so I ordered a burger, and if you read far enough, you'll realize that I probably ate over 30 burgers in the span of 18 days. The burger was good, and I headed back to the terminal to wait for the ferry. That's where I met a few locals from Sequim, which is apparently pronounced skwim. I don't remember what I said, but it was enough to get judgemental looks. I met some really nice people, and one person who I had met, John, even told me about his cross-country bike trip back in his day. Unfortunately, John is married and has responsibilities now, so he can't pursue his dream of also riding down the Pacific Coast Bike Route(PCBR). Before you attack me, those are his words, not mine. But someone else who I had met in the terminal is Savannah, she was the first bike packer I had met. She's from Sante Fe, New Mexico, a nursing student. A few fun facts about her, Casey Neistat follows her, and she loves the artist Alex G. Her bike is one with character, a back pannier rack, tied to it with her camping gear, a smaller rack on the front with two smaller bags, and a basket. The bike was quite the bike, it looked like a commuter bike you would see a dad riding to work with, with no drop bars, rim brakes, and city tires. But you know what, she's an absolute badass and it's not about the bike it's the cyclist. We talked to each other and we decided we should cycle together. We discuss our plans, and we ask John and a few other locals what route we should take.

A little intro to the first leg of the trip, the Olympic Peninsula. The Olympic Peninsula is where we start off, with Port Angeles being at the top center of it. To go down south we have two options, go inland through the Hood Canal, or go by the coast. The mileage is similar, on one hand, the hood canal has some of the narrowest, most dangerous roads for cyclists, with no shoulders, and a 5-foot ditch, with logging trucks zooming past from both sides. When two logging trucks pass by each other, you are almost guaranteed to pee your pants, eat the dirt, or go to heaven. Or you could go by the coast. sounds scenic? Nope. The 101 on the road is too inland for you to see the coast, a lot more remote, with little to no supply restocks along the way, tons of mosquitos, and also tons of logging trucks. We contemplated our choices for the day and we decided we were going to head by the coast, going west.

Our first trip stop would be Fairholme Campgrounds, approximately 52 km or 32.1 miles since we were now officially in the land of the free. When the ferry arrived, Savannah suggested we start off with some fish and chips, so we did, eating overpriced fishing and chips by the pier, taking in the sight of the waving American Flag. We talked a bit and she asked how old I was, I told her I was 18, and the response was: 'Aww, you're a babyyy.' HAHA. This would be a common theme throughout the trip. I asked her why she wanted to embark on this trip, she explained how she wanted to challenge herself and go on this big trip before she had to work full time, we shared the stories of how both our families thought we were crazy for wanting to do this.

After the pleasant meal, it was already 6 pm and we started on our journey across the land of the free. I’m not even joking when I say, that probably 2 kilometers in we faced this giant hill, and I could not pedal up that hill for the sake of my life. My bike’s weight which I thought was manageable at first, felt like pushing up an elephant up Mount Everest. So I got off the bike, embarrassed, and pushed it up. This was the theme for that day, there was so much climbing and the 52 kilometers seemingly felt endless. Exhausted, I would have to take breaks almost every 10 minutes. I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into. After an exhausting 3-hour push up this mountain navigating backcountry roads, I followed Google Maps, and the road slowly turned into gravel. Just 5 more kilometers to go, almost there, keep pushing. Suddenly I see this giant gate right in front of me. RATHOLE, USA. Well. The road that Google Maps lead me to seemingly cut off into private property. With giant signs stating private property, and that they would shoot trespassers, I had no idea what to do. It was getting dark at this point the sun was setting quickly, and I just wanted to set up my tent and go to sleep. I was a bit ahead of Savannah so I just stared at the gate for a good while, wondering what I should do. I decided to give them a holler, to see if I could ask them if I could pass through to the campsite. Five hollers later, not a single response. I ring the bell, no response. I was really contemplating trespassing at this point to be honest. In my head, I thought this might be my only option, as it was dark and navigation would be impossible in the backcountry roads in the dark, and to go an alternative route would be an extra 5 hours since we would have to make quite the detour. I decided to google this place Rathole, USA. I found a Reddit post in which multiple people wrote how Rathole, USA was a separatist community, and even drew guns on the state for trespassing. So not wanting to take my chances, I turn back. A few meters cycling back I met back with Savannah, and we were both puzzled about what we should do next. As we were deciding on what to do, we spot a local going for a walk, Luke. We talked to Luke for a bit, and he told us that we couldn’t pass through and that we would have to either take a 20-mile mountain biking path to connect back or cycle back to Port Angeles. We realized we were out of luck, so we asked if we could sleep in his backyard. Luckily he said yes. Luke and his wife Liz were some of the nicest people ever, offering to refill our water bottles, and letting us use their toilets. I was pretty down at this point, I had just battled for my life cycling up a hill, just to be faced with a cult. Making no progress, it really seemed like I was in over my head. I thought to myself if I should just head back. There was no internet and I just felt lost. I had no idea what I was doing.

But in life, you always have to find the silver linings. While we didn’t accomplish what we set out for, it's not the end of the world. After all, if one thing goes wrong and you quit, you’ll never accomplish anything. So I decided to get a good night's rest and take on the fight the next morning. 

Day one lunch

Savannah(Left) and My Bike(Right)

Backyard Camping

Middle of Nowhere