That Friday evening I hooked up with a group of cycling enthusiasts (nee nutcases - in the friendliest possible way you can use that term) called the Margaret Charles Chopper Collective, or M-C3 for short. These guys and girls are a combination bike group and alternative-experimental art collective. Thier bikes are their art. These are not your average 21-speed mountain bike or road-racer.Some of the contraptions include welding several individual frames together to form form 'tall bikes' with 2 or even 3 chains and cogs, with the rider sitting atop at about 15 feet above the ground, or the bicycle equivalent of the Harley-Davisdon chopper, complete with 10-foot long front forks, fat tyres, painted flames along the frame, and custom-designed fibre-optic neon lighting!! (i'm serious!!)
Us mere mortals with the standard off-the-shelf mountain bike are welcomed into the group,
but are considered 'guests'. Ian all there was around 30 cyclists. We met in the early evening at a rotunda by the mouth of False Creek and then proceeded to carve up the bike paths in a celebratory manner, whopping and hollering and chanting songs and slogans to the bemusement of other bikers, roller-bladers and pedestrians (altho we did manage to recruit a couple of cyclists and bring them into the fold). Great fun, completely harmless and non-threatening. Our first stop was down by Kitsilano beach to watch the sunset at the point where Burrard Inlet becomes the Pacific Ocean. What a gorgeous view. So pretty in fact, that despite the strong cool breeze and low temperature, a number of us decided it'd be a good idea to go for a swim. Never mind that we had no towels to or proper swwimming attire - we went for a skinny-dip (yes, i was one of the brave few!)....i'd skinny-dipped Loch ness in the Scottish Highlands in November - I could handle this!
I have to say it was one of the most invigorating 5minute dips i've ever had! Altho, I will admit that the offerings of hip flasks of dark rum were gladly accepted afterwards, and my toes remained rather numb for at least 2 hours after the rest of my body regained normal temperature.
After that, we had to pay a visit to a restaurant where one of the cyclists friends was having a birthday dinner. Imagine her surprise (and the other 15-odd dinner guests) when her friend turns up to the restaurant with 30 freaks to give a rendition of Happy Birthday...and then immediately leave!! What a present!
The next freak-show event of the night, close to midnight, was a 'parkade bomb', where we would all invade a city centre multi-story car park, cycle to the open rooftop (the first literal high of the journal title), spark a few joints (the 2nd - i guess!), take in the scenic city lights, and then sprint down the levels making all sorts of racket in the form of haunting ghosts and the like, the open chambers of the parkade creating enormous echoes and a cacophanous sound that i'm sure could be heard several blocks away, and streaming on out into the street at ground level (the literal low) in a procession of madness. By this stage, I was quite stoned, and a little drunk after the rum and some sneaky cans along the way. Coming up to 1am we all voted to call an end to the night - it was a good 5 hours since we took off, and a good night had been had by all.
All that was left for me now was to cycle home - no small mean feat given my state. We split up into generally 2 groups going in different directions, only i got a little confused and followed the wrong group for about 3 blocks before i realised, and in my efforts to try and locate the other group got myself rather disorientated in the city. Now keep in mind that i've been living here almost 3months and travel to the city every day for work - but i got totally lost and honestly it took me about 15minutes of cycling around taking random lefts and rights before i found a street and route that i was familiar with to head out to east vancouver. It actually got a little frustrating for a while! Thank God the traffic was virtually non-existent as i'm pretty sure (but not entirely sure) that i lost balance and fell off my bike more than once en-route home, more as a result of the BC buds rather than the beverages. My housemate Ceri can verify the state I was in when i got home, barely able to string a sentence together, talking incomprehenisble nonsense.
I've had several heavy nights out here in Vancouver and elsewhere, but I only described this one in some detail as it ranks pretty high in the messiness stakes!
The following morning, I was due to get up early and head out to Bowen Island for a day-hike with the University hiking club I'd hooked up with. I honestly thought I'd have no chance of responding to my alarms' 6.30am wake up call, but respond I did, and with some semblance and feeling of normality too! Perhaps I was still drunk/stoned. I necked a coupla Tylenol in preparation for the hangover I knew was bound to come and headed city-bound to our rendesvous point.
Bowen Island is one of the Gulf Islands located on the Howe Sound inlet between Vancouver Island and the mainland. Very close by the city, it's only an hours bus ride and a 20minute ferry ride away. That's one of the best things I love about Vancouver is that you can be in the middle of nowhere in literally minutes.
Getting the ferry across the Howe Sound to Snug Cove on the island was breathtaking, with perfect weather views of the lower Rocky Mountains, their peaks rising just above wispy drifts of fluffy white clouds, and thousands of acres of green pine forest covering the mountain-side all the way down to the waters edge. Snug Cove itself is a tiny little village with a quaint marina of small yachts and other boating vessels, our enormous BC Ferries transport seeming quite out of place.
The aim of the hike was to scale Mount Gardner, the highest peak on the island. At 600metres or so, it was more of a hill than a mountain, but it was a 17Km round trip all up. More interesting people to meet, a gorgeous hike, and wonderful views from the heli-pad at the peak over the Howe Sound and out to the city skyline, where we had lunch (the 3rd high!). My hangover was more than soothed by the company of a couple of nice and friendly Canadian nationalised Turkish gals, with me becoming their official photographer for the trip. Altho the hike was longer, it was not as challenging and difficult or as interesting as the Stawamus Chief hike in Squamish a few weeks earlier.
As per usual tho, I took a kazillion pics, and as a result on the way down, got seperated from the rest of the group, and nearing the end of the hike, almost back to civilisation, at the base of the mountain (literal low) where the trail met the road, I took a right instead of a left and wandered 15minutes in the opposite direction from which I was supposed to be going. It was only when i stopped a local to confirm directions that i realised my error.
This is all well and good, except for the fact that we were all supposed to be back in Snug Cove to catch the 6pm ferry, or else be stuck there until the next one 2 hours later. Time was against me, and I was pretty well cream-crackered (knackered) and so resigned myself to the fact that i was gonna miss it. However, today was the one day when Canadian transport ran late (that never happens) and the ferry was still there at 10past when i strolled on, literally the last passenger on board before it took off.
more in a mo...
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