Grin and Bear it - Day 1 - 43 miles

I had trouble sleeping last night. A combination of jet-lag, nerves about starting the trip and explosive diarrhea all had their part to play. I woke early and began re-packing my bike bags to try and squeeze everything in. It didn't all fit so I had to be a bit creative with cable-ties and bungees to make it all work. By the time I'd finished it was a real struggle to lift the bike and maneuver it around my hotel room. How was it going to handle on the road?

Rain is forecast for the next week and it was raining fairly heavily so I started delaying a bit to see if it would get better. It was difficult to persuade myself to leave the nuzzling womb of my comfortable hotel room with its running water, flushing toilet and electricity. The sun finally came out so I forced myself up and wobbled the bike out of my hotel room. The cleaners all stared at me. I'm pretty sure they'd all been building up their own theories about why I had not allowed them into my room for 2 days. I think most of them thought I was up to no good with all the banging and swearing going on. I just hope they don't find the oil stains on the carpet I tried to hide under a table.

At 10am I was standing nervously on the street outside my hotel. Anybody who's been on a long cycle trip with me will know that the first day always begins with some kind of GPS malfunction. Today was no different. The route for today that I'd carefully programmed back in England was nowhere to be found on my GPS. Luckily I'd been studying the map for the last couple of days so could pretty much remember how to get out of Vancouver and for the rest I could use my guide book.

Confusingly my journey to Mexico begins with nearly a week heading north. I thought it would've been a missed opportunity to rush out of Canada. Riding through downtown Vancouver was fun, although I felt the need to get a move on as I'm really here for the mountains and forests not the cities. Within 15 minutes I was in Stanley Park, a large and beautiful park which provides several amazing views of the city. I cycled round the entire park on the bike path. I was a little annoyed that the bike path was shared with rollerbladers. It seems that unfortunately unlike back in London there is no stigma attached to rollerblading. Residents of Vancouver rollerblade freely without fear of persecution. Canada doesn't have everything right.

From the park I rode over Langdale bridge, a similar experience to riding over the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. I found a bike path on the other side of the bridge and stopped for a few moments to watch some men fly-fishing in a river. I was delighted to see large trout hurling themselves high out of the water as if to taunt the fishermen. For the next 10 miles I rode along Marine Drive, a winding, wonderfully hilly road running along the coast. At around lunch time I came to Horseshoe Bay where I caught the ferry to Langdale, further north. The ferry ride took in some amazing views of the mountainous coast. It also gave me an opportunity to have some much needed lunch. I nearly yelped with pleasure when I saw a rather impressive looking veggie burger on offer. I'd started to get a little depressed about the lack of vegetarian food I'd seen available in Canada. Maybe I've just been unlucky so far. The ferry ride was over too quickly but there will be many more to enjoy in the coming days.

Once off the ferry everything seemed a little more rural than it had further south. The next 20 miles took in a couple of pretty challenging hills. I started to think maybe my strategy of doing no training whatsoever for the 6 weeks leading up to this trip had been a little foolish. After big climbs come thrilling descents and I was happy to set a new top speed of 40.6 MPH. The one good thing about carrying so much luggage is that you fly down hills. I passed Roberts Creek camp ground which I'd originally planned on staying at before opting for the more remote and exotic sounding Porpoise Creek. As I turned off the main road following signs to my chosen campsite I suddenly felt very alone. No cars passed, tall trees and mountains enveloped me and I began think about bears. One of the main reasons I've come to Canada is to see bears but now faced with reality of spending the night in a forest potentially filled with bears I was unconvinced about my own commitment to wanting to be with the bears. I rode into the park entrance and was delighted to see that cyclists had their own dedicated and secluded campsite. I passed families with large 4 wheel drive vehicles and tents like houses then a little further into the forest I came to the cyclists camp ground. It looked amazing. A small clearing in the trees with a scattering of picnic benches. Just beyond was a small sandy beach. It was everything I'd hoped for. On further investigation a massive sinking feeling hit me as I realised nobody else was there. I was fully prepared that at many points on this trip I would be sleeping alone in remote areas. The thought of this scares me more than most things about this trip but I thought I'd get the chance to get used to it gradually. I didn't want to be alone on the first night!

I grudgingly began setting up camp. I wasn't prepared for this, I was planning on being able to ask people questions like, 'where can I put my food at night so the bears won't get it?' This was really my main concern, what do I do with my food. I knew I couldn't keep it in my tent. I might as well put a sign on my tent saying 24 Hour All-you-can-eat Bear Buffet. I took a look around and found a large metal brown container. It looked like a bear proof food storage unit. It took me a while to work out how to open the bear proof latch. I took a look inside and found a small clear plastic bag containing a solitary dog turd. Whoever put that in there obviously holds their dog's waste in high regard. That would be crossing line for even the hungriest of bears. This was no place to store my food.

I found the whole complication of preparing food in bear country so intimidating I had no appetite. I had to eat, so after a walk along the beach I followed all the advice I've ever read about bears and took my stove and food as far as I could from my tent to begin cooking. I made a cup of tea and put some spaghetti on. As the pan simmered away on my lovely new petrol stove I was approached by the ranger. I almost hugged him and instantly started firing questions at him about bears. I asked him where I should store my food. In the most amazing Canadian accent he said, 'well I guess ya could hang it from a tree if you like'. I was prepared for this, I'd bought some string especially from WH Smiths back home. He started going into the intricacies of how you'd go about hoisting a bag of food up into a tree out of a bear's reach. Inexplicably he then said, 'ya could always use a bear cache ey?'. He pointed at the bin with the dog turd in it. He explained that around the back there was a separate compartment for food storage. I'm not really sure why he didn't mention that in the first place. I asked him if he'd seen any bears in the park recently. I was relieved when he told me he hasn't seen one yet this year. He expects them to arrive with the salmon in October.

Thanks to the ranger I'm now sat calmly in my tent, alone in a dark forest writing this. It may be a different story should I hear some noises in the night. Let's see if I can tough this one out.