July 26, 2024
Bere Point Regional Park to Port Hardy
The crows were cawing loudly in the morning, waking both my dad and I early. We packed up camp quickly and rode the 6 kilometers back to Sointula to Coho Joe, a cafe we'd heard great things about by some of the cyclists we'd met a few days ago. The cafe did not disappoint, with fresh scones and strong coffee. While enjoying breakfast and waiting for the 11am ferry back to Port McNeil we learned more about Malcolm Island's history as a Finnish settlement, and how it was established as a sort of co-op utopia of sorts. That sentiment definitely continues to this day, as we overheard locals talking about helping one another out and even speaking in Finnish.
Soon we boarded the ferry back to the mainland, but just as we left the dock my dad patted his pockets and checked his hip bag and realized he left his phone charging in the ferry waiting room. Flustered, we called the cafe and asked if they could perhaps grab it for us. Steven, the cafe owner, was happy to help and grabbed the phone for safekeeping. He even said he would hand it over to one of his friends taking the afternoon ferry and have them return it to the ticket booth, thereby saving us the fare of going back to the island.
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With a few hours to kill before 2:10 when the next ferry would return from Sointula, we stopped at the local bike shop and picked up some chain lube and drivetrain cleaner and gave our bikes a much-needed tune-up. We also revisited the pizza joint that we went to yesterday and had a slice and a cider. By the time we were done we could see the ferry returning from Sointula and went down to stay near the ticket booth. This is when we had a rather humorous exchange.
While watching the passengers disembarking from the ferry, a woman passed in front of my dad and I while talking on her phone. We overheard her say something about "What kind of idiot would do that?"...just as she happened to be walking to the ticket booth with a phone in her other hand. Realizing that we were the idiots she was referring to, we called out and exclaimed "We're the idiots!" to which she sheepishly ran over, handed us the phone, and promptly left. We chuckled and were on our way.
The riding out of town was easy, with only a few punchy climbs between us and Port Hardy. We made good time, stopping only to let logging trucks pass or to get water.
As we neared the end of the gravel road, I was slightly ahead of my dad when off to my side I saw a large black bear in a pull-out munching on raspberries maybe 15 feet away. Exclaiming "Whoa, hey!" in surprise and to spook it off, the bear stood on its hind legs before running quickly into the brush. We lingered for several minutes, bear spray in hand, to see if it would reappear, but we had clearly startled it away.
The remainder of the ride was easy cruising on Highway 19 into Port Hardy. We found a spot at the local RV park which was only a few kilometers from the ferry terminal, where we would be catching the morning departure to Prince Rupert. We spoke with a fellow bikepacker for some time before I rode into town to grab dinner. Several years ago, on a much shorter bikepacking trip, my dad and I ended with a fancy camp meal of bread, cheese, wine, and fruit. We figured that would be a fitting way to conclude what has been a much longer and more arduous trip. I rode back to camp, wine and accoutrement in my saddle bag, and we toasted to a successful trip.
Tomorrow we will spend 15 hours sailing to Prince Rupert, where we will then spend two nights before flying home to San Diego.
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