Thanksgiving on Hornby

Thanksgiving on Hornby

For our Thanksgiving long weekend( 2001), Maureen and I went over to Hornby Island with some friends. Hornby is pretty remote, requiring three ferry trips before setting foot on the island. It starts with the big ferry to Nanaimo, followed by an hour of driving up to Buckley Bay, a ferry to Denman Island, a drive to the other side of Denman, then another ferry trip after which one can finally set foot on the destination isle.

We arrived late Friday evening and it was too dark to spend much time inspecting our surroundings. By the dim half-light inside our rented cottage by the sea we quickly unloaded our car, which remained parked for the rest of the weekend, and settled in. The silence was broken for a moment when Maureen, in the kitchen, yelped and ran. A quick look revealed a rather large spider doing laps in one of the sinks. Good thing she didn't get a chance to look into the other sink to see the dead mouse sprawled limply across the drain!

We set the mood for the weekend the next morning with breakfast served at a casual pace. Sharon dealt with the mouse, job skills learned as a cancer researcher. A few mugs of coffee followed by blueberry pancakes prepared with all-natural batter contents, thus fitting in with the ethos of island life, provided sustenance for the day's ride. After breakfast, we headed off to finish the morning's tasks - cleanup, personal hygiene, last minute bike tune-ups, etc.

During the bike tune-up process, I decided to take my bike for a quick loop around the lawn. Foolishly, I rode with the seat removed, as our hasty unpacking the night before meant the seat was still in the trunk. I was just making sure the drive train was OK, shifting OK, the usual checks. I headed back to the patio and executed a quick hop up an easy 1-foot step up to the patio, a move I would usually do with no problems. This time, however, something went seriously awry. I suspect that my right shoulder, still tender from a fall a couple weeks ago, didn't put the correct amount of oomph into the lift. This resulted in my body getting slammed hard into the bike, which was complicated by the aforementioned fact that I was riding around without the seat, so I got skewered by the seat tube. The seat tube rammed neatly into my crotch and found the space in the exact center of my pelvis. I fell over sideways, knocking Bob's bike flying off the patio. Okay, it was a stupid move, but nothing seemed to hurt much, so I picked myself up and carried on with getting ready for the ride.

Much to our surprise, given the recent weather reports, we hit the road with a sunny day ahead of us. After about fifteen minutes of cruising on the blacktop, we found the beginning of the trail system. As is usual for us, we stopped at the trailhead for a brief moment to add or remove clothing layers, grab a sip of water or adjust equipment so the climb wouldn’t be interrupted. I found a private tree to take care of my own business. This is when I noticed a little problem … ACK! I’m peeing blood! My little practice session, it seems, resulted in a lot more than a painful bump in the groin. A brief panic sets in as I realize that I’m on a remote island with no quick way to visit a doctor or an emergency room, other than to call for a helicopter. To calm myself down, I told myself that this couldn’t be serious. It was only a few drops of blood, there wasn’t really any serious pain and I hadn’t hit any vital organs (right?). I figured I was there and I might as well try to enjoy the ride, so I’d just keep a watch to make sure nothing got worse.

Hornby is a relatively small island with a park in the middle. In fact, if one got completely lost, the best thing to do is follow a trail until it crosses a road. You’ll be no more than 20 minutes from where you started. The park is criss-crossed with trails, most of which are designated for shared hiking/biking use. There is a section that skirts along a sheer cliff that is for hikers only. There's also a ripping fast downhill run called ‘Hot Rims’ that is designated for bikes only. In reality, the hikers tend to stay on the main double track climb to the cliff and the hike along the cliff edge, leaving the acres and acres of twisty single track open to bikers! These trails tend to be smooth, with few obstacles to make them really technically challenging. However, because there are so many tight twists and narrow passages between trees, they suddenly become VERY tough if you start to bring your speed up!

As we began the climb to the top of the hill, I was taking it easy on the climb and drinking plenty of water, thinking it would keep my system flushed. I wasn’t feeling full strength, but certainly strong enough to carry on. We reached the top and stopped to take in the view from a sheer 200 meter cliff and grab a bite. I hustled off for a pee break. It was still bleeding, but not getting any worse.

The ride continued with a fast-paced run down ‘Hot Rims’, twisting and turning through the forest. The descents are fast and over far too quickly, leading to another climb back up to find another trail. The next trip down followed ‘The Way’, providing more entertainment as Lee learned that his brake pads had worn down to the metal, leaving him with little or no rear braking power. Although most of the braking force while riding is to the front wheel, the value of the rear brakes became keenly evident as Lee attempted to negotiate the twists and turns at high speed without the ability to ‘set up’ into the corners. There were several near misses with the trees. This was our first mechanical failure.

Part of the way down ‘The Way’, we crossed the path back up the hill and climbed up to ‘Toad’s Ride’. More fast twisting and turning ensued interspersed with small jumps over logs placed strategically across the trail. Near the crossroads of ‘Toad’s Ride’ and ‘The Way’, a loud ‘bang’ was heard. We waited awhile, and Chai appeared, carrying his bike alongside him. His front rim had blown a sidewall, ending his ride for the day. Being the good friends we are, we pointed him in the right direction, and continued our ride.

Linking up with ‘The Way’ once more, we headed all the way down, this time stopping to hit the big jump a few times for a few thrills. Bob, having more guts than experience, tried the jump but failed the test of technique. He landed it, but judging by the blowfish look on his face, it wasn’t a smooth one!

One last short climb brought us to the crème de la crème … ‘No Horses’. This trail is a bermed up slalom starting about halfway up the hill. It’s fast, it’s twisty, and it’s never enough to ride the trail just once. Of course, since we have two more days, we headed back to our weekend home knowing we’d be back to visit this spot.

At the cottage, we fired up the sauna, grabbed some malted beverages and just generally relaxed. It was a good first day, and the best way to cap it off is to imitate vegetation. Except perhaps, for Lee, who took time out to study the industrious nature of spiders. Seems that these huge guys will immediately work to repair any breaks in their webs. Sharon baits Bob into trying drops of the patio with Chai’s bike. Bob takes the bait. My pee seems to be clearing up a bit.

Sunday began much like Saturday, with coffee and breakfast. This time Huevos Rancheros filled the plate. The weather was much cooler and clouds had hidden the sun from us. Nevertheless, we struck out for the trails. Chai was back with the group, having rented a front wheel from the tiny local bike shop. This time, we headed immediately toward an unmapped trail we’d spotted the day before. We saw the exit previously, but couldn’t locate the trailhead. By walking backward up the trail, the reason was revealed; this was a new trail not yet completed. Looking at the outrageously fun jumps, drops and gaps was too much for some of us, though. We simply had to try it out!

Having been fired up by this little bit of excitement, we made a beeline for ‘No Horses’. There was no disappointment with ‘No Horses’. Well, except maybe for Bob, who became the third victim to mechanical failure as the side of his rear rim peeled off, signaling the end of his day. Bob headed off and the rest of us climbed up the back of the hill.

Back at the top, we headed for another burn down ‘The Way’, then linked up with another twisty beauty, ‘4 Dead Aliens’. We scooted amongst the trees along the thin twisting thread of trail slipped into the carpet of bright green moss at speeds fast enough to make the eyes water. All was not well, however, as Sharon’s front brake appeared to have faded into nothingness. Mechanical failure number four made its debut. Since nothing could be done about the brakes, we continued the ride. Sharon had to be more cautious, but on the other hand, she became ‘unstoppable’. We finished off with the bottom half of ‘The Way’, followed by a quick hit of ‘No Horses’ and back to our weekend home, with a late lunch stop at the local café.

We made our way home along a trail paralleling the shore, playing amongst the rocks and logs. Once we finally made it back, Bob was there, listening to the radio. They’d been bombing Afghanistan. Happy Thanksgiving.

Another visit to the sauna, followed by dinner, more malted beverages and a rousing game of cribbage served to keep the demons from the other side of the world away. We headed off to sleep, weary from the day. My pee is almost clear!

Monday morning dawned clear and crisp. We had four bikes out of commission, though. Lee had no rear brake and Sharon had no front. Chai had no front wheel and Bob had no rear. Also, the sidewall of Sharon’s tire blew out overnight. Apparently, Lee’s advanced bike maintenance techniques need to be reviewed. Nobody seemed motivated enough to piece together one or two working bikes out of the bunch, so Maureen and I headed off for a quick tour to revisit a few of the best trails for an hour or so before we had to head for home.

This would just be one lap of the park, so after we took our trailhead stop (Wheee! Clean pee!), we ground our way up the hill one last time, popped into ‘Toad’s Ride’, zipped over to ‘No Horses’ and back to where we started. No crashes, mechanical failures or other untoward problems.

Back at the cabin, we had to face the inevitable. We were expected to return to civilization, jobs, responsibilities and all the necessities of supporting a mountain bike habit. Cleaning and packing completed, we headed off to the first of three ferries.