The plot of this sequel sucks: It's just pretty pictures

May 10, 2016

It was another freezing cold night, but with three sleeping mats, two sleeping bags, a hoody, a sweater, a jacket, several t-shirts, tracksuit trousers and a really thick warm hat on I was okay, and actually slept quite well. I got up and looked around at a beautiful clear morning in the mountains and as I packed away my things ready for another day on the bike I still couldn't get my head around how amazing this place was. A little further along I cycled past another lake and this was even more incredible in the scenery stakes than anything that had gone before. Frankly speaking, I struggled to comprehend how somewhere this breathtaking could even exist.

Would you believe it if I told you that a bear took this photo for me?

What was particularly interesting about my failure to comprehend the magnificence of the scenery along this road was of course that I had already cycled this road before, back in 2011. It seemed odd that I had practically no recollection of having done so, especially as I would now put this road firmly in the 'unforgettable' category. I reasoned that perhaps on the first go the weather had not been so nice (subsequent checking of old photos would confirm this) and that, because I'd come later in the year there had been less snow in the mountains. I'd also been going the other way of course. Perhaps it just looks better going east.

Unfortunately this road could not last forever and before long I was in the town of Lillooet, which marked a considerable change in scenery, and an end (for now) of the snowy mountains. As usual I headed straight for the library of this dusty old gold rush town to use the wifi and check in with Dea. So far Canada had been fantastic for free wifi access and it made it just a little bit easier to bear the injustice of our separation. And by the way, I really didn't think too much of our particularly cruel recent twist in the script. I could see what the writers were thinking – obviously the first movie, me cycling alone towards the girl, had worked well, and they'd wanted the same basic premise for the sequel. But the circumstances of Dea's departure was a little brutal, and honestly me cycling alone across Canada is hardly as interesting as me cycling alone across Asia. Sure in these towns a few people did speak to me and ask what I was doing, but the conversation was always the same, conducted in English, with precious little room for entertaining comical misunderstandings.

And there weren't even any kangaroos here for me to collide with to provide a good story. The best alternative were deer, and I saw five of them on this particular day. They actually bounced along a bit like kangaroos on four legs, but alas not one of them bounced into me.

The scenery beyond Lillooet changed to grey and brown mountains of loose scree, no longer heavily forested but instead dotted only sparingly with trees and shrubs. It was still beautiful enough in its own way, but as I began a long climb back up I was scarcely able to appreciate it. I'd come down with a runny nose and itchy eyes which I hoped was just hayfever, and not the beginning of Lyme Disease. Making matters even worse there were mosquitoes now, that attacked me even as I cycled. So when I wasn't sneezing or resisting the urge to rub my eyes I was swatting wildly at mosquitoes. It was not at all fun and, let's be honest, a pretty crap movie scene.

The next day was not at all eventful. I don't think I so much as saw a deer, never mind collided with one. My hayfever was better at least, and I began to feel more optimistic that I probably wasn't going to get Lyme Disease. The crossroads town of Cache Creek was reached, and after once again stopping at the library to use wifi, I joined the Trans-Canada Highway from there. Fortunately the road was not at all busy, and had a good shoulder, and what was more, I had a tailwind too. The only problem as the day drew on were some extremely menacing dark clouds that came at me from across a lake. At one point the sun was shining on my side of this lake, with the dark clouds on the other, and the photo I took was very nice. But I was worried, because those clouds appeared intent on crossing the lake and soaking me. So I cycled very fast and tried to outrun them, and look for a place to camp.

This was difficult, because the open hillsides provided neither flat ground nor shelter, and fences lined the road too. Then I came across a golf course, and thought about fulfilling my long-held ambition to camp on one. They just do look so good for camping though don't they? Right on the middle of the 18th green would do me. But unfortunately this particular golf course was built on the slopes of the lake, and was, unusually for a golf course, entirely not flat. In fact it looked more like a giant crazy golf course, and I wondered how the ball didn't just roll down the hill all the time. But I didn't wonder about that for too long, because I still needed to find shelter, and my attention was drawn to a large tunnel that went under the highway. It wasn't the Ritz, but it would have to do.

I set up my tent but left the fly off. It wasn't necessary because of course the tunnel itself protected me from the rain. I didn't sleep too well, however. My attention kept being drawn to the end of the tunnel, where I half expected to see something terrifying appear. Like the time when I'd slept in a similar place in Iran, and in the middle of the night a man had appeared at the end of the tunnel, wielding a large tool not unlike a pickaxe. Seeing him silhouetted there, at the end of that tunnel, had been probably the single most terrifying moment of my life. But that was Asia. That was the first movie. That was the kind of cool sh!t that happened. But this was Canada, good old safe Canada, and, of course, not one single terrifying Iranian appeared all night.

Tuesday 10th May – 94km

Wednesday 11th May – 110km

Today's ride: 204 km (127 miles)
Total: 49,071 km (30,473 miles)

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