Start. Stop. Restart (minus) 1

This cloudy day does not reflect the joy of the day: Rich is going home.

Let’s back up.  Rich and I departed Minneapolis on May 22^nd for Seattle, leaving directly from Good Weather Bicycles downtown for the ferry to Bainbridge Island.  We spent the first night in Poulsbo and enjoyed a festive Viking celebration in this small town.  The next day, we lumbered up to Port Angeles, taking in about 3,88 feet of elevation gain with our freshly loaded bikes and traversing around 66 miles that we deemed “good training.”  After a night in a small, decent motel, we took the mid-morning ferry to Victoria, British Columbia, making landfall on Canadian soil mid-afternoon.  Staying at the Days Inn overlooking the harbor, we had the remainder of the day and much of the next to see the sights, enjoy some good food, and pleasant strolls.

Parked bikes on deck of ferry to Victoria, in view of
Olympic Mountains

All was going well.

We departed Victoria north toward Burchart Gardens and took in the springtime splendor of this extravagantly beautify botanical treasure while also enjoying a sandwich from the Red Barn, a kind of country market with a splendid sandwich bar, all the while traversing a maze of bike paths that crisscross Victoria.  It is really a bicycle-friendly city.

Sunken Garden at Burchart, an old quarry restored to a garden over
100 years ago 

In the meantime, using the Warm Showers app, we scored a homestay with Marvin, Erika, and Emily Paxman across the Saanich strait from Burchart.  The Mill Bay Ferry took 25 minutes to reach the far shore on the site of the Malahat Tribal area.  Ending with a steep climb up to their house, we were warmly received by the Paxman's for a single night – including a warm shower!  

All was going well.

Time to head north out of the Victoria environs toward Nanaimo by way of mostly country roads – best that I say very hilly country roads over 50 miles.  This was a good test of what was possible on this trip.  The main highway was constantly busy with traffic but perhaps with the advantage of less steep gradient. But the country road scenery was quite beautiful, pastoral, and passing through small towns like Chemainus with a wonderful lunch spot and views of many murals, for Chemainus proclaims itself the mural capital of the world.

The first camping night took place at the Living Forest campground where we had a beautiful site overlooking the broad river estuary and the mountains beyond, as well as an adjacent picnic shelter that proved convenient when it started raining.

In spite of that, all was going well. 

Friday, May 27^th:  we were greeted by a gloriously bright morning sunrise, enough to quickly dry the tents and enable our departure.  We covered more bicycle routes through downtown Nanaimo, taking in the harbor, in search of a bakery that might have supplanted our slim breakfast of oatmeal.  We did not find one but continued out of town on quiet bike routes that finally ended in north Nanaimo where we had to rejoin one of the main routes: 19A . 

A further aside.  When Rich and I ride (we have taken numerous trips together), our motto is “just go”.  We ride at different speeds and I am normally ahead of Rich and await him when we have a turn as I usually navigate the route.  I merged onto the Highway 19A generous shoulder, crossing an on-ramp to do so, and started a coast down a gradual hill heading north.  Suddenly, a car comes by me closely and parks in front of me on the shoulder.  I slowed down so as to pass carefully when a man speaking French asked me if I was riding with someone.  I said yes. “He has been in an accident! A truck has hit him”

I looked back up the hill, terrified, and saw traffic stopped at the on-ramp.  I turned and started to ride hurriedly back up the hill but was in the wrong gear.  I just jumped off the bike and ran/pushed my way about 200 yards back up the hill, thinking “No! No! No!. Not on my watch!”  I was personally terrified as I have never been before.

The terrifying scene with Rich tended to in the mainline on right

A few bystanders were kneeling around Rich when I arrived.  He was bleeding profusely, his eyes batting wildly, and his breathing stunted. Someone had called 911.  I carefully pulled his helmet off and planted my bandana on his head gash to stem the bleeding all the while yelling at him to stay awake and not go unconscious.  I thought I might lose him, right there, on the pavement of the mainline. He was trying to get up, and we held him down when an off-duty EMT came up and started to assess and administer first aid.  Soon after the local police arrived, followed by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP - our equivalent to State Troopers), and then finally, seemingly endlessly, the EMTs arrived and took over.

I could now only stand and watch, horrified – I felt so alone.  I was interviewed by the police and the RCMP, as well as some of the medics trying to get information.  The highway was completely stopped in both directions.  A medivac helicopter landed on the highway. And then I was able to take in the enormity of the situation, and how it might have happened.

A large pickup truck driven by an elderly gentleman was on the on-ramp and accelerating, perhaps even looking backward over his left shoulder to see if cars were coming. Rich was crossing from the mainline right shoulder, across the on-ramp lane, to reach the far-right shoulder of the on-ramp.  Somehow, both of them did not see the other, and the truck hit Rich squarely at the headlamp/fender and launched him into the adjacent lane.  The small trailer that he tows his gear with was crushed under the driver's side front wheel and at a stop some distance from where Rich was lying.  The gentleman was obviously in shock.  I talked to him, and tried to provide some comfort, as he was “sick to his stomach.”

As Rich was being wheeled to the helicopter from the ambulance, he appeared somewhat alert.  I spoke to him as he was being placed into the helicopter, and told him I would be there for him as soon as I can.  The EMTs said he would be OK.

I watched him leave, sitting some 100 miles north of where they were going to take him (Victoria General Hospital) sorting through what had just happened, what I would do next, and waiting to find out what would become of his bicycle and gear.

Off to Victoria by Medivac

I took a chance.  These kind people – the Paxman’s – had casually mentioned that if we needed anything just to call them.  I did.  Marvin, who was playing pickleball, answered and when told of the incident, said he was on his way up with the van.  At this same time, another gentleman, Robert Simpson, came riding up to me as I stood on the shoulder and offered any assistance he could as he lived very nearby, and was a former bicycle shop owner.  I graciously said I had a pick-up arranged, but took his name and number just in case. This unfolding event was nowhere near over.

Dear Reader, what follows is an extended display of kindness from strangers that carry one through tough times.  Today, as this is being written, I have returned to Nanaimo and expect to re-start my journey, now solo, across Canada tomorrow, nearly a week later than when things were going so well.

I had to wait at the side of the road, seeing the truck and his crushed gear, while the traffic investigation was done.  All of the scene was a police jurisdiction zone and nothing could be taken from it until after the investigation.  After some pleading, I was able to get his watch, wallet, and cellphone, not knowing how long this investigation would take.  The wrecker finally came and carted away the debris and told me I could claim it after the police investigation in their yard.  An hour passed, and the highway gradually opened. Apparently, this event was now all over the media waves and particularly on TV and newspaper news, heard up and down from Victoria to Nanaimo. 

I finally was able to move to a commercial area nearby, walking my bike, to await Marvin.  Hungry, with a Dairy Queen on the corner, I had a milkshake, certainly sufficient to cool my thoughts but not my nagging worry.  Seemed forever for Marvin to get here, but he finally showed up.  We were able to claim his gear and then proceeded to drive the 100 miles to Victoria General Hospital.

Events somehow manage to get in the way of best-laid plans.  There was a major structure fire in Mill Bay that shut down the main road, resulting in an enormous traffic delay – one of the worst I have ever witnessed, with stopped vehicles snaking slowly around the rural roads on which a detour was laid. I was worried about Rich and desperately wanted to see him as soon as possible.  Throughout, our “biking buddies" messaging system was running full steam with everyone worried and wanting updates.

This was a very, very long and difficult day.  We were able to get to the hospital by about 6:30pm, as Rich was just transferred from the Emergency ward to the orthopedic ward.  Much to my relief, he was doing OK, quite banged up, tired, the worse for wear (and tear).  We went home to Mill Bay, and I slept well.

Our Warm Showers saviors: Marvin and Erika Paxman

Fast forward to today, June 1st.  Rich, whose smile and sense of humor was restored, was discharged and left the hospital for the return to Minnesota.  I have spent the last 4 days commuting by bicycle and ferry to the hospital daily to keep him company and be aware of plans (and how they can change).  I listened to the docs and nurses.  The crew on Ward 5A was terrific.

The smile is back with temporary tattoo's

They brought Rich back to life – maybe not physically as he is on the mend, but I think mentally as his disposition and capabilities improved markedly every day I was there.

So yes, there was joy today.  Rich is going home.  And it is not in a box.  He is a lucky, resilient man.  Perhaps best of all, he remembers almost nothing of the entire event.

Going home!

Time to restart this journey, minus one.