Escape to Denman Island - Day 4 - 22 miles

I'd gone to bed last night with the intention of enjoying a lie-in and making the most of my motel room before catching the midday ferry to Vancouver Island. However I woke at 6am full of energy and determined to get an entire day's riding in. I checked the latest weather and things were looking bad. Thunder storms all day. After some consideration I decided things could be quite unpleasant out there so went back to sleep. I don't remember having such an enjoyable lie-in for years.

I got up again at 8am and started looking at some maps – trying to work out a plan for the day. I had the option of getting the ferry and finding a place to stay in Comox, a fairly big town on the island. I didn't like that option as it involved hardly any riding at all. The other option was to attempt the 55 miles to Rathtrevor Beach Provincial Park. This would mean getting off the ferry and riding hard, non-stop in order to set up camp before dark. I wasn't sure I could do this either given the thundery showers predicted. Looking at the map there seemed to be little in between these 2 places. I couldn't make up my mind so decided to see how things looked once off the ferry.

The ferry is supposed to be a scenic cruise taking in sights of glacier-topped mountains. I could see little past the rain and clouds. Upon arriving on Vancouver Island things looked a little brighter. I was raring to go after 24 hours off of the bike so I set off at a fast pace. If felt really good to be back in the saddle. After 5 miles I entered the town of Comox and saw a really nice looking bike shop. The sort that would definitely sell the kick-stand I so badly need. It was only now that I realised today is Sunday and it was of course closed. I navigated my way through some fairly busy multi-lane roads and headed out of town. Comox is one of those horrible decentralised towns you find in the US and Canada. A few scattered malls that can only be visited by car. After going a little bit mad in Powell River the night before there was no way I was spending the night in a place like Comox. It is however a notionally important part of the journey. At Comox I stop heading north and begin the journey south to Mexico. It's all downhill from here.

I powered on along the coastal road that links the north and south of the island. It started to rain a little but not enough to dampen my spirits. I continued fast along the highway stopping regularly to top up on calories. I could make it all the way to Rathtrevor Bay at this rate. At around 2.30pm the sky opened up, dropping an ocean of water on me. My shoe-coats couldn't cope with the onslaught and before long I was getting a bit worried. It can be quite distressing cycling in conditions this unpleasant when you have no idea where your next opportunity to shelter will be. After around 10 miles I found a public toilets. I enjoyed a very special 10 minutes with the hand-dryer in that toilet.

After about 90 minutes of constant torrential rain I was wetter than I've ever been. I was ready to retreat to some sort of accommodation with a roof and a shower. I found a B&B but after investigating thoroughly came to the conclusion nobody was home. I headed on as fast as I could and saw a sign for a ferry to Denman Island. I looked over at Denman Island, just about visible to the east. It looked almost like it might not be raining over there. Also the ferry would have a waiting room and perhaps heated seating areas on the ferry itself. I bought a ticket.

As we docked at Denman Island the sun was peaking through the clouds and it wasn't raining. As I cycled up the steep hill away from the ferry I was happy with my decision. The happiness lasted a good 30 seconds before being quickly washed away by a downpour. Before long I found a hostel, it looked perfect. I'm a little embarrassed to admit the thrill I had upon seeing the place had laundry facilities. I'm now into the second wearing of my cycling clothes and I smell pretty bad. I walked around the large hostel, looking in through the windows, it looked empty – almost abandoned. I felt a bit like a member of a rescue party sent to look for survivors in the aftermath of deadly virus outbreak. I found a sign on a door instructing new arrivals to call a mobile phone number. I called but got an answerphone. I didn't know what to do. I had found the perfect place but couldn't get inside. There was a porch area with the door open so I sat inside and started to wonder if I could sleep in the porch. It was still pouring outside and I didn't like the thought of riding the entire island to find some alternative accommodation. I tried the number again and spoke to the owner who agreed to come over in 10 minutes.

The owner was a tiny Scottish lady who I would describe as a hippy. She showed me around the hostel which appeared to have been quite tastefully decorated sometime in the late 19^th century. I was shown the bathroom where I was asked to take only the briefest of showers due to the island's shortage of water. This seemed a little rich given that in my short time on Denman Island I had probably collected enough water in my socks and shoes to bathe a small island family. I later noticed a sign in the toilet advising to flush only when necessary. 'If it's yellow let it mellow', read the sign. She then took me outside and showed me a large hot-tub. I wasn't really sure where this fitted in with the island's strict water conservation policy. There are 4 of us staying in the hostel tonight. A chap called Andy from Coventry and a German couple. I caught the German couple eyeing-up the hot-tub earlier. Typical, I thought in a slightly xenophobic way.

I managed to lock myself out of my room earlier. Brilliant I thought, it's been a bit of a boring day, this will make a great story for the blog. It didn't. After a bit of mucking about I found a spare key and let myself back in. There's nothing like a night in a hostel to make you want to return to the freedom of the tent.