The next morning I was up just before sunrise in order to get everthing ready for an early departure.It took a lot of time to pack everything up but as it was really cold and my fingers didn't want to work at all.I did eventually get it done and fed myself in the process.The only problem now was that the tyre I had fixed the night before had flatted again.I threw all my stuff over the fence into the parking lot to avoid more thorns and then set about finding the other thorn that did the damage and patched the tyre in the growing light.The good news was that there were lots of stars out and the trees were still.The promise of a sunny,wind free day cheered me up no end.I managed to ride off at about 7ish when I figured there was enough light so that even the sleepiest of drivers could see me.
I rode south for a short time before hitting the intersection of Hwys' 97 and 17 where I turned of the hwy and onto the quieter road toward Bridgeport.Without the wind buffeting me to a crawl the road seemed to race under my wheels and after stopping once to take in the view of Lake Pateros in the early morning light.Soon I was passing over that lake on a long scary bridge that provided a good view of the town of Bridgeport.I don't like crossing bridges with my trailer attached as I can't really use any pedestrian sidewalks and I always feel trapped and completely at the mercy of the traffic.Reaching the end of that bridge was a relief as there was very little traffic but on spying civilization I really felt like stopping at a gas station for a coffee to warm me up.I decided against it and pressd on.
The road turned eastward and away from the shelter of the valley walls which meant I was finally being warmed by the suns' rays.I even took off my wind breaker at that point as I was even starting to sweat a bit.That was something new for this trip.I continued heading into the sun for about fifteen miles before hitting another intersection.If I went straight on I would reach Coulee Dam,a right turn would take me south toward Moses Lake.I veered right and continued down Route 17.I was really getting into the mornings' ride now that I was warm and figured I would make up some of the time I had lost over the previous two days.Southward I continued but it wasn't too long before something happened that would change everything.
After years of cycling the roads of many different countries you develop the ability to sense certain things around you while you ride.Generally you can figure out the size of the vehicle that is about to pass you and just how close you think they are to actually hitting you.I've been hit several times in my years on the road and always brace myself for the worst.Today the worst nearly happened.I could here the approach of a vehicle which normally wouldn't be a problem.Drivers so far on my trip had done thier best to give me room and most even passed on the the other side of the road.This time I sensed something different.The sound of the vehicle just got louder and louder as it closed in behind me.Then in an instant I could see,out of the corner of my eye,the front of the vehicle passing my left shoulder only inches away from me.Reflexes took over and I swerved sharply right toward the edge of the road.The pick-up truck was now driving in what shoulder there was and that left me nowhere to go but off the edge of the road and out of control down a steep little hill into a ditch.
It was all so quick and I don't even remember seeing the pickup again and all I know was that it was black.There was no time for anything else but to try and survive the inevitable crash and crash I did.I was knocked off my bike by a tree branch on the way down and that may have helped my personal cause a bit.While my helmet shattered into bits at least I didn't follow my bike a trailer to the bottom of the ditch.I did hear it all happen below me as I slid to a halt on the bank.The sound of my bike hitting the rocks at the bottom and then taking the brunt of my heavily laden trailer was nothing I wanted to hear.After lying still and doing the usual body check for damage I figured that I had escaped without too much damage.Thankfully the weather had caused me to wear several layers of clothes and full gloves so they took the brunt and were suitably shredded.
I slid down the bank to check my gear for damage and the first thing I noticed was a front wheel that didn't look like a front wheel anymore.It was completly potato-chipped!Unhitching my trailer I realised that the rear axle was now bent and useless but the trailer was in good shape(gotta love German engineering).My bike however wasn't.The left brake lever and shifter were broken off,the forks were now facing the wrong way and the left fork was cracked.The rear droppout on the left where my trailer attached to the frame was bent inward and my left pedal didn't turn anymore(to be honest it was nearly toast before the ride).The worst was yet to come as the top tube was now bent and sporting a deep dent with a hole a little bigger than a dime in the middle.I guess the weight of the trailer really did it's worst and all I could do was sit down in the dirt and stare in disbelief and the carnage in front of me.WTF!!!!!
I sat there for quite some time absorbing what had happened and then the realisation hit that my trip was over.I knew that I couldn't afford to buy a new bike and there was no way this one could be fixed.I didn't know how much money was in the donation fund and had no way to check to see if any interest had grown at all among the triathlon community both in Penticton and abroad.I knew the only thing to do was to get back to Penticton and see if any sponsors had come on board.If they had ,I would fly down to Austin and base myself out of my brothers house,training like a madman until it was time to go to Monterrey for the Deca.
I dragged the bike up the hill to the road and then went back for my trailer.Once it was all back on the road I assessed it again and as I was doing that a little truck heading north pulled up and stopped opposite me.A sixtyish year old lady got out of the truck and asked if she could help.It seemed that my face had been cut as well and I was bleeding quite a bit.She asked if I had been hit by a car but I said no and told her my story.She asked if she could take me anywhere and all I could say was that I wanted to go to Canada.She told me that she lived about 25 miles north and she could take me either to Bridgeport to report my accident or to the main hwy to hitch a ride north.I told her where I had camped the night before and she then helped me load all my stuff in the back of her little truck and drove me the 28 miles or so back to where I started the day.
I don't know why I decided to go back to Monse but for some reason it just seemed a familiar place to go.I was very upset and equally confused.All I could do for the moment was to get my tarp out and lie down in the sun and sleep with all my gear spread around me.I woke up about an hour or so later and took stock of my situation.My bike was toast,I was broke and my trip was done.There was no reason to hang around really so I stripped what usefull things I could off my bike and then put it,along with all my torn and bloodied clothes, in the dumpster by the toilets.I then packed my trailer and pushed it to the highway and started hitching back to Penticton.
I was only on the side of the road for about twenty minutes before someone pulled over and offered me a lift to the border.The guy who picked me up was a scruffy guy in his late twenties and he was very sympathetic upon hearing my tales of woe.He tried to cheer me up and told me a little about himself.It was then that I realised how lucky I had been to survive my little crash as the guy who had picked me up was an ex US soldier.A vet of Afganistan and Iraq.He had been shot in Iraq, had been discharged ,and was now living on vets benefits.He told me what it was like to be shot in the back and how he couldn't move for weeks until the spinal surgery that he had enabled him to move again.His life was a constant struggle between trying to find work to support his family and dealing with a life, dependant on the drugs that kept the pain at bay.I was humbled and meeting him helped me put all my problems in perspective.He drove me right up to the border,wished me luck and was gone.Now for my next concern,getting back into Canada.
I had overstayed my visa this trip and had been in Canada illegally for the last ten months.It was such a relief to get out of the country three days earlier without the U.S guys catching on but now that I had to face the Canadian Customs guys I figured I was in trouble.As I was walking through the border I didn't bother waiting in line with all the vehicles and pushed my trailer straight to the front of the line and dropped it on the lawn in front of the first customs booth.The guy there just shook his head and waved me over to the front of the line and asked me what I was doing pushing the trailer through to Canada.I explained my tales of woe to him but all he did was fill out a form and told me I would have to go inside and speak to an Immigration Officer.Damn and double Damn!!
I went in to the immigration office with my tail between my legs hoping that they wouldn't figure out that I had been in the country ten months longer than my visa allowed.The ramafications of being deported were huge and could possibly negatively affect any further trips into Canada and the States for the next few years.I waited my turn and was soon being interviewed by a pretty cheerful immigration guy.He asked what I was up to and why I was going to Penticton. I told him that I was going back to Penticton to collect a bunch of stuff I had left there and to purchase ticket back to Oz.That's when he hit me with the question I didn't want to hear."How long were you in Canada before entering the U.S three days ago?"I nearly died!!"One year",I replied and then he shook his head slowly and blamed some ficticious immigration guy for not stamping my passport properly when I entered the country last.I didn't know what drugs he was on but it does seem that I do indeed have a horseshoe up my butt as after a quick mention that I would be having beers with one of his co-workers in Penticton that night,he stamped my passport for another six months.I actually didn't realise this fact until a couple of days later as I thogh he had only given me ten days.He did tell me that he would be informing the U.S border guys about my overstay and that it wasn't adviseable for me to try to go back through the border again on this trip.With that I breathed a huge sigh of relief and wheeled my trailer down the road and back into Canada.
I again stuck the old thumb out for a ride north to Penticton and thankfully,with the night closing in and the temperature dropping,I was picked up within ten minutes and driven all the way into Penticton where was delivered to Anthonys Pub and back to familiar company.I waited a short time for my mates Dave and Cindy to arrive for the usual Wednesday night chicken wing eating session during nwhich time I drowned my sorrows and entertained them both with my border crossing stories.They are both customs officers on the border and there was no way they though I would get into the States in the first place let alone back into Canada.I was,it seemed,very lucky indeed.After a few beers to dull the ever increasing head and neck pain caused by my crash they took me home and I then started to try to figure out what to do next.
DAY ONE-HALIFAX
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