Though the weathermen are in a tizzy about how dry and sunny Vancouver has been in June, I am not complaining.
Summer came early this month and, as a result, so did an overwhelming urge to get away.
So, as the blue sky glistened and the sun sparkled on the ocean, I packed my bags and headed to the Sunshine Coast with Mike and Harley for a few days of adventure.
Our home base was a cabin at RockWater Resort, a mini piece of relaxing paradise near Sechelt.
We arrived late the first evening, just in time to check into our humble cabin, dip our feet in the ocean, play ball with Harley, and set up our Muskoka Chairs at just the right angle to watch the sunset from our ocean-view cabin. We cracked open a couple of beers. Murmured the trademark "ahhhh!" and enjoyed one of the most relaxing evenings we've had in a long time.
Day 2, however, would be quite different.
We woke up early, enjoyed a continental breakfast at the lodge, and then quickly met up with Gary from Off The Edge for a mountain bike ride.
Gary was full of life and love for nature. His energy was infectious, and we high-fived as he handed us our bikes and started our Mountain Biking 101 crash course. After learning the gears, brakes, and all the moves, we set forth on a beautiful trail near Sechelt. It was littered with sharp ess curves, stumps, rocks, steep climbs, and precarious descents.
It was the kind of trail I'd love to hike. The kind of trail I'd fear to bike!
After a rocky start, on my part, of fear, anxiety, and lots of stopping, Gary sent Mike off to challenge himself (as he was picking it up really quickly), and had a heart to heart with me.
"You're being a pansy," he said forthright.
"I know," I said, wincing. "I hate it!!! I'm not that girl!!! But for some reason, I am really scared."
He told me how his wife had studied and theorized on women and extreme sports and their underlying fear of failure, pain, and more. He said "Stop thinking that Mike isn't having fun because you're slower. Stop thinking about hurting yourself. Just have fun! Be willing to get a few stitches!"
I gulped.
"Now, tell me you're going to go off this jump" he said.
I looked at the jump: by all accounts, the kind of jump that even a pansy like me could do. Maybe a 2 foot drop (max). A sharp left and a stable bridge. It could be done.
"I can do it" I said without as much conviction as I wanted.
"On the first try?" Gary asked.
I gulped again.
"Definitely on the first try."
Confident that I could do it, Gary quickly gave me the low down on how to approach the jump successfully.
- Get some speed up front. "None of this pansy gliding nonsense." He wanted to see hard pedaling.
- Hop on the bridge on the left side. Take it sharp.
- Don't look down, look ahead. At Gary. In the eyes.
- Go off the bridge and into the jump on the far left of the bridge and make a sharp left.
- Don't sit on the seat.
- Be flexible.
- Be willing to crash.
I nodded.
I was scared.
As I walked my bike back up the trail to where I would start, Mike came back from his adventure. I heard him whisper to Gary: "Is she going to go off this jump?"
"Yep."
"are you sure?"
"she can do it. She said she would."
"This is going to be AWESOME!"
I was trembling.
"GO!!!!" Gary shouted and I hopped on to my bike, pedalled hard, veered on to the bridge on the left. It was all going according to plan. I looked right at Gary. In the eyes, like he said. He pumped his fists: "You're doing it!!! This is AWESOME!!!" He and Mike high fived. In my head and heart, I thought "I AM doing it! Holy crap!" and then I let the excitement get the best of me.
I started to steer shakily and came off the bridge on the right hand side, not the left. The consequence? I landed straight on a massive tree stump which sent me and my bike skyward. I came down hard on the seat. It broke off. I kept riding. More bumps. I came down hard again. The seat poll took a bite-sized piece of flesh out of my inner thigh. Mike and Gary cheered: "So AWESOME!!!!"; I nearly peed my pants.
I managed to bring the bike to a stop after some time. Gary and Mike ran to high five me. "You did it!!" "That was so cool!"
I had left the "pansy" behind and entered the realm of "cool."
Well, until they said: "Do it again!!!!" and I kindly declined.
The rest of the trek was much more fun and far less fearful. I tackled some steep downhills at an impressive clip. I maneuvered over rockes, around tree stumps, and through bushes. And I had a slew of bruises, scrapes, and blood to show for it.
The best part?
The forest was stunning. Packed full of giant firs ... some first generation that had escaped logging.
They were breathtaking.
When we pedaled back up to the truck, loaded our bikes and ditched our helmets, we were sad.
Mike had enjoyed every second of this adventure; and I had come around and truly enjoyed the challenge.
We were sad to say goodbye to Gary and the bikes but happy to have made a great friend, learned a thing or to, and tried our hand at something that scared us.
It was glorious.
And we were desperate for a nap!!
