Thinking of touring

It's been a very busy summer and fall for me, hence little time to post to the blog. I hope to get back to this in the next few weeks, but in the meantime, how about a little something from Joe Kurmaskie. It even features a mention of Saskatoon. (www.metalcowboy.com/damfam.pdf)

Smile

A little off-topic, but kind of a fun and interesting side note of a CAN-BIKE II course I was leading today. As we were returning from our afternoon's ride, the Google Streetview car passed us as we rode through the intersection of 12th St and Clarence Ave. I hope we were looking our finest!

It's a GASP, GASP, GASP is online today

Westworld Saskatchewan Magazine, Getaways: It's a gasp, gasp, gasp

Slick-tire riders take to back roads and trails during Saskatchewan's annual pedal push along the historic Qu'Appelle Valley.

Full story:
http://caask.ca/assets/pdf/WWonline.Summer%202009.GASP.pdf

Westworld Saskatchewan Magazine Summer 2009 edition is out

If you're a CAA Saskatchewan member, you'll be getting your copy of Westworld Saskatchewan shortly. Don't miss the GASP 2008 story, "It’s a Gasp, Gasp, Gasp: Pushing pedals and making friends along the historic Qu’Appelle Valley", in the Getaways section.

What was your first tour? Does it still seem like yesterday?

My first long Saskatchewan bicycle tour happened when I signed up for the 1986 Great Saskatchewan Heritage Bicycle Tour. I had heard about this annual event, organized by the Wascana Freewheelers, for the previous three years, but I never got up the nerve to join these cyclists who obviously were so much more "athletic" and "adventurous" than I was. They were riding all over the province like they knew what they were doing, while I was sneaking out of my apartment for rides along Regina's Devonian Pathway and, occasionally, on some of the grid roads around the city, venturing out for an hour or two at a time.

Yet, every spring, I'd hear reports of these travellers and their adventures through the province, while I grew more and more bored with riding the same trail over and over again. By 1986 I had finally decided to join the tour. It took some doing. I wondered how this group would take to a newcomer. I wondered if I'd be accepted, or if would find myself riding alone on the road and sitting alone in camp. I worried that these experienced cyclists would leave me in their dust, abandonning me to fend for myself as I struggled to keep up.

I had been riding a bike all my life, but this tour would be different. Of course I rode everywhere while I was growing up. There was a time when kids rode bikes, you know. I had ridden long trips as a teenager, smitten by my bicycle's ability to take me on incredible journeys and introduce me to new people. But I had also just experienced a long hiatus from cycling, having lived in Vancouver during a time when cyclists faced unmitigated discrimination and animosity. Cyclists were all but forbidden from riding to the university campus. Occasionally, newspapers would publish reports of fistfights between cyclists and motorists. Who could ride in that kind of atmosphere? I gave up cycling for nearly a decade. One of the first things I did upon reaching Saskatchewan was buy a new bike and begin riding again. It was a wonderful feeling, but it wasn't at all like riding in the mountains.

But I had made up my mind and was determined to go through with the tour. I went to the participant meetings, where we learned about the route and what we need to do to prepare for the trip. I packed nearly two weeks in advance, checking and double checking my gear each night to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important. My employer had approved a day's vacation.

Early on that Friday morning preceding the Victoria Day weekend, I packed my bike and gear into my car, and drove out to the Moose Jaw Western Development Museum. The temperature was just around freezing and a fierce northwest wind was blowing a late-season snow horizontally. Yet, we departed on schedule, headed for Assiniboia. I gritted my teeth, pulled the zipper on my jacket tight up around my neck, pulled on my warmest cross-country ski gloves and pushed off into the wind. The snow had stopped, but it was still cloudy, when we reached the Sukanen Ship Museum. It felt good to go indoors for a spell. Back on the road, I looked up from the pavement as another snow squall hit us, near Ardill, to see a line of cyclists ahead of me, all tilted fully 45-degrees so they could maintain a straight line into that unrelenting wind. We stopped for a snack at the Mossbank turnoff, and at that point the tour magically changed.

While we munched our snacks, the wind blew the clouds away, then shifted around to the north. The sun finally came out, feeling warm and welcoming. The wind pushed us swiftly toward Assiniboia. We pedalled at amazing speeds on a highway almost completely devoid of traffic. With the wind at our backs and the sun casting a golden light on the spring prairie, we quickly made up for lost time earlier in the day. For the rest of the trip, each day was warmer, reaching 35 degrees Celsius on more than one occasion.

As much as I'll never forget that first day of my first Saskatchewan tour - or the sight of all those cyclists hunched over their handlebars, tilted 45 degrees into the wind near Ardill - what I'll always remember about that trip is the friends I made. Each evening, we'd sit in camp, sharing stories, talking of places we'd visited, discussing the museums and people we encountered. It was an eclectic group, teachers, bankers, doctors, civil servants, business people, all brought together by the common bond of their bicycles and a love for adventure. Most amazing of all, the friends I made on that trip are still my friends today. Some of those cyclists, those who still live in the province, will be with us on GASP 2009.

Do you remember your first bicycle tour? What was it like, your first solo adventure, club trip or GASP tour? Post your comments to tell us about your first tour.

Welcome to spring: What's your most magical cycling moment?

Spring officially arrives today and it's beginning to look as though March could go out like a lamb. After this winter, it couldn't come soon enough!

While doing some research for the GASP tour, which I note will mark it's fifth anniversary this summer, I was reminded of the first time I visited Unity, where we will arrive on day four of GASP 2009.

It was a mid-summer weekend in 1996, and I was teaching a CAN-BIKE course for staff of the health region.

On Saturday, we wrapped up the first day of the course and I returned to my hotel room for a short break. Coincidentally, I happened to be in town on the same evening that local merchants were conducting a "midnight madness" sale. The stores were going to remain open until late into the evening. Some of them moved merchandise out onto the sidewalks to display.

The town had recently completed a "Main Street" upgrade, one of those infrastructure projects funded by the federal government. The downtown streetscaping had been revamped: wide, brick sidewalks, nostalgic lamp standards, upgraded storefronts. I had noticed earlier in the day that every street corner had bicycle racks.

I wandered onto Main Street just around sunset. The late-day sun cast a golden light on everything it touched, complemented by an azure sky overhead. For some reason, a marvelous magenta light bathed the entire scene, bringing normally cold, dark shadows to a life of their own.

But most amazingly, in that magical light at that mysteriously still time of the day, were the bicycles. Bicycles everywhere. People were riding bicycles down the street, gathering from the residential neighbourhoods surrounding the town centre. There were boys and girls on mountain bikes. There were dignified adults on three speeds. There were people of every age and size on bikes of every kind, old and new. They were walking bicycles on the sidewalks, strolling leisurely as they gazed in the store windows. Every bike rack was full, each bicycle neatly inserted and left unlocked as its rider wandered off to inspect the merchants' displays. In response to tiny notices I had seen earlier reminding people not to park bicycles against buildings, where they might block access for pedestrians and others who needed mobility assistance, not a single bicycle blocked anyone's path, so fastidiously were they tucked into their parking spaces. There had to be 300 or more of them downtown that evening, in a town of 2500 residents.

It occurred to me that you couldn't get a scene like that in a Disney movie.

Unity celebrates its centennial in 2009, just two weeks before our visit during GASP.

So, what do you remember as your most magical bicycling moment? Tell us in your comments, below.

What the experts say about bicycle tourists

Forget the spandex-clad, dumpster-diving, homeless long-hair hippie bum image that people seem to associate with the bicycle tourist.

Here's what the travel industry says about people who tour by bicycle:

• Touring cyclists are well educated (49% have university degree).
• They make a decent living (83% earn over $50,000 per year).
• They tend to be empty-nesters (70%), couples who no longer have children living at home.
• They mainly are older adults (66% are 35 to 54 years old; 20% are 55 or older).
• On average, bicycle tourists travel 15 days/year, often done over two or more trips.
• They like to stay at bed-and-breakfasts, hotels, motels or well maintained campsites.
• They spend an average of about $120/day, making them a more lucrative tourist clientele than average tourists, who spend less than $60/day.
• They travel mainly on quiet rural roads.

By the way, about 2000 cyclists tour through Saskatchewan annually.

Ernest Hemingway

"It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them.

"Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle."

Ernest Hemingway, By-Line: Selected Articles and Dispatches of Four Decades