I am in Victoria now, on Vancouver Island, staying in a charming 1908 Craftsman bungalow that is like a miniature version of my Berkeley house (back of house and kitchen pictured below).
John and I brought our e-bikes up here with us, pulled behind my old Prius on our fancy Kuat bike rack. On previous visits, I’d heard about the Galloping Goose trail but I’d never ridden it so I’ve been excited about doing so.
Similar to the rail trail in Vernon, they took a railroad right of way and converted it into a 60km trail through Victoria and up into the agricultural countryside, lakes, and forests of Sooke, north of the city. The name “Galloping Goose” comes from the name of the name of the “gawky and noisy gas rail-car which carried passengers between Victoria and Sooke in the 1920’s.” Apparently, the rail car sounded like a squawking goose.
But before I talk about the wonders of this trail and how much fun it is to ride a bike on it, it occurs to me that “Galloping Goose” could also be a term for me these days. At the end of May, I had a bad fall of my mountain bike. I fractured my shoulder, hurt my elbow, and bashed my hip. Earlier this week, I finally went to a physical therapist (called a “physiotherapist” or “physio” here in BC) to start rehabilitating my shoulder, as well as my hip. Now, I have a slew of exercises that I do, alternating days between my shoulder exercises and my hip exercises.
My hope (plan) is to remain a “Galloping Goose” so that I can continue my exploits cycling, hiking, and kayaking for many more years. But to do this, I need to pay attention to my various parts that are feeling the effects of so many years of hard use and various accidents. John is always amazed that I have the discipline to do the rehab but the alternative is unappealing to me. I want to keep galloping for as long as I possibly can. As a good friend has pointed out recently as he tries to recover from the extremely debilitating and long-term (as in 5 months and counting) effects of COVID-19, being healthy is not something to take for granted.
Back to the trail… First of all, it’s especially attractive to ride since I have an e-bike. 🙂 I’ve been trumpeting the advantages of e-bikes to all of my friends and have gotten quite a few to bite. If only I was getting a commission.
I’ve been on the trail three times already in the last six days. The first time, I headed off on my own from our rental house and started at the beginning of the trail which is at the very mod Johnson street bridge in downtown Victoria.
I rode to Langsford where John’s mom used to live. On the way, I passed through the town, along the inlet called the gorge, over a couple of bridges, and then along the freeway and through some forests. I appreciated the mural art under one of the overpasses.
My friend Barrie called me while I was cycling so I used that as an excuse to rest for 20 minutes while chatting with her. This was good because I was running out of energy due to hunger. I’ve been trying to eat only two meals a day, one at about 10am and the second around 6pm, but the problem is that if I exercise in the afternoon, I can completely run out of fuel in the middle of my exertion, which is what happened that day.
My mother used to have the same problem. My dad would say that the quarter had fallen through the slot, like on a slot machine, and so she had no more energy and would get all shaky (I think it’s hypoglycemic). I am the same way. Once the fuel is gone, I get very weak. So, suddenly, I found myself an hour out of town and starving. Luckily I had seen a cute café called The Nest on the way so figured I could turn around and get a snack and a drink there. I made my way back, arriving at the café at 3:05pm to learn that they had closed at 3pm. Oh dear! Very hungry! Here’s a photo of me as I search for food.
So, I pushed myself back toward town and stopped at Fantastico café just before downtown to get a snack that would help me make it back to the house. On my way back through town, I passed by a homeless encampment right near city hall with two totem poles in front. While discouraged to see evidence that Victoria also has a homeless problem (1500, a number that has not changed since 2018), Canada’s regret over its treatment of the indigenous population made the juxtaposition of the totem poles and tents somehow apropos, though I have no idea how many of these homeless are actually indigenous.
My reward for making it back home was waiting for me. At a farmers market over the weekend, John and I had learned of a rhubarb gin that a local distillery was making. I am a huge rhubarb fan since I don’t like sweet things very much but love those that are tart and flavorful. But, it is so popular that it was sold out everywhere. While I was on my ride, John had called the distillery and tracked down a bottle at one of the liquor stores that carries it locally. So when I got back, it was sitting on the kitchen counter, winking at me. Such a beautiful color and a wonderful reward for my 2-hours of riding.
Thanks John!
