The reason we found ourselves in Qualicum Beach was not to lazy around on the luxurious sandy beaches with overpriced ice cream. It was to visit some of the OHV riding areas with single track trails. There are several in the vicinity of the town, and we went to Whisky Creek. We mapped out an unpaved route to the staging area via Melrose Road.
The day was hot and dry, and notably, it was a Monday. The local logging operators were hard at work. We turned onto the unpaved Melrose Road, and after just a couple of minutes saw a giant cloud of thick dust moving fast towards us from the opposite direction. The road was narrow with high vegetation instead of shoulders, the logging truck was huge, and there was no way to pull to the side to let it pass without finding ourselves enveloped completely in that fine dust. I was stunned for a second, while Alex’s quick thinking saved us. He gestured to turn around, and we rode as fast as we could back towards a spur in the road, where we rode again as fast as we could at a 90º angle to that cloud of doom.
It was not long until we arrived at the riding area, and thankfully there was no risk of meeting a logging truck there. The temperatures were higher than the previous time we got out onto single track, and we were wearing heaving jackets now, so it got hot and sweaty fast. Everything seemed to take more effort and was executed with less grace. There were some loose hill climbs that took more than one attempt, but on the bright side, without the luggage the bikes were easier to maneuver – or pick up when necessary.
The next day we took the coastal road north. The weather was beautiful and the road was pleasant enough, but after a couple of hours of riding the fairly straight highway, we were yearning for something a little more… interesting. Somewhere between Courtenay and Campbell River we spotted Iron River Road, which looked like it connected to the inland highway 19, and from there linked to a network of forest roads. After a couple of kilometers it became progressively more overgrown, until eventually we hit a road block. Someone literally piled a huge amount of wood and fencing across the road, 2 meters high, to prevent access. The maps were showing a road, but in reality it was blocked private property. Disappointed, we had to turn around and head the long way on the highway.
Finally we joined Gold River Highway – a paved road that traverses the island east to west through a series of canyons, lakes, and rivers. After riding for hours with nothing but crisp mountain air and sweeping vistas to feed us, we reached the town of Gold River and stopped for lunch. The town is very small, but a local artist filled the streets with carved benches featuring iconic animals like eagles, and some fantastic creatures like dragons. It made it worthwhile to make a loop around town to check it all out.
We tried to follow a few small roads in the vicinity, but they were overgrown, littered with trash and unusable. Instead, we followed the Nimpkish Main road roughly north, until it re-joined the island’s primary thoroughfare, highway 19.
From there, it was a straight shot until the day’s destination – a recreational site at Ida Lake. Remote areas of British Columbia in general, and Vancouver Island in particular have quite a few of these sites, which are typically primitive campgrounds, accessible via gravel roads, often in rather picturesque locales. The final surprise of the day came just outside this campsite. A few kilometers before the turnoff to Ida Lake, we stumbled onto a black bear. It was running along the road in the same direction, and after a while disappeared into the woods. Well, I certainly would not be storing any food in or near the tent this time.
The night took a long time to arrive at these northern latitudes, and when it did, with it came some suspicious rustling in the woods. I was asleep and Alex woke me up, whispering, “I think there is a bear out there.” In the weird sleepy state I was not sure what to do with that information. Should I make noise? Should I be very quiet? Suddenly my body position felt uncomfortable but I didn’t want to move and make noise with my sleeping bag. The rustling outside seemed removed, and shortly afterwards disappeared entirely. I drifted back to sleep.
Alex would later joke that when he woke me up, I stopped snoring, and that scared the bear away.
